Harry Potter and the Simurgh's Feather
by Airewen
Summary: *~*Completed*~* Ron and Hermione go to Bulgaria to enlist the help of a magical creature in the fight against Voldemort. R/Hr romance ensues... ;) --Please R/R!!
1. Formation of a Plan

Disclaimer: Harry, Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, Krum, and all the other Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. The legend of the Simurgh belongs to Persian folklore and is therefore fair game Muahahahahahaha!

A/N: I'm new to publishing my fanfics—I usually don't like it enough to share (call me selfish!). I've been reading the fanfics here for several weeks now and I absolutely love the R/Hr stories, so I thought I'd pitch in. This one's a longer story and the action/adventure part if it is just as important as the romance, so the romance won't be developing for another few chapters! Just to warn you! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review & tell me if I should continue!

*~*Formation of a Plan*~*

       "Harry you _can't_ go. You heard what Professor Dumbledore said. You're just not safe outside of Hogwarts right now!"

       Harry looked at his best friend with trepidation. He knew she was right but he didn't like the idea of it. Ron and Hermione sneaking off to some foreign country alone without him. It was like walking right into Voldemort's layer handcuffed and ready to die. How would he know if something went wrong? And something could go _very_ wrong. But if he were to leave Hogwarts now, he would be vulnerable to Voldemort who was growing stronger by the day. Harry wasn't quite prepared to face Voldemort—not yet, at least. Hermione and Ron would raise little suspicions out on their own. They could pose as two lovebirds on vacation and no one would ask any questions. The entire wizarding population of Grad Sofiya would know within 10 minutes if he, The-Boy-Who-Lived, walked into a tavern in the middle of the countryside at midnight. "All right. But you _have_ to let me know the _minute_ something goes wrong. And not by owl. We need something faster."

       "Like what?"

       "I don't know, Hermione, but I'll figure something out."

       The two sat down in the Great Hall and began eating. Ron was already munching happily on his breakfast.

       "Where have you two been? I don't think I've _ever_ been down to breakfast before you guys," he said by way of a greeting.

       "Oh, Hermione was helping me finish up my Potions essay," Harry lied.

       Hermione leaned over to Ron's ear and whispered quietly so that no one else could hear, "we have to talk. Come straight to the library during lunch. Harry will bring us some food."

       Ron groaned at the idea of spending his longest break between classes in the _library_ of all places but assented when he noticed the seriousness of her tone. If she would ask him to give up his lunchtime to be in the library he knew it had to be important and his curiosity was piqued. He spent all of Herbology nagging Hermione about it.

       "Ron, if I wanted to talk about it in the middle of class I wouldn't have asked you to meet me during lunch, would I," she huffed. "Now get back to your Bubotuber and leave me alone!"

       Ron wasn't sure if he wanted to yell at her or kiss her, but that was often his response to her outbursts nowadays. Ever since he had admitted to himself that he had feelings for her over the summer he had had strange impulses to do things he knew she would certainly slap him for. He didn't trust himself with a response—he turned back to his Bubotuber and tried to suppress the impulse to grab Hermione by the waist.

       Lunch came painfully slowly to Ron who's curiosity couldn't have been more acute. What was so urgent that it couldn't wait until they were in the common room after classes in the evening, and so secretive that she didn't want to discuss it _during_ classes?

       Ron entered the library and headed for Hermione's usual table. To his surprise she wasn't there. _Odd_, he thought. _She wouldn't ask me to come and then not show up._ Suddenly he felt a light tug on his right hand and he turned to see Hermione behind him.

       "Hi," she whispered, and pulled him off to a more secluded section shielded by a bookshelf. "Sit," she commanded.

       Ron eyed her playfully, but decided not to try her patience. He sat obediently and waited as she disappeared behind the bookshelf to return again with a rather massive volume in her hands. She turned to a page halfway through the text and began to read:

       "'The Simurgh is a creature who resides on the sacred Persian mountain of Alburz. Thought by the muggle world to be merely a myth, she leaves her nest only to find a sick child to nurse and foster or when she is summoned by the burning of one of her feathers. Her eggs have mystical powers and are said to possess a poison transcending the magical realm but one touch from her feathers will heal even the deepest wound.'" Hermione looked up triumphantly from her text and looked at Ron expectantly.

       "What are you on about?"

       Exasperated she sighed in disapproval and leaned over to him. "The Simurgh is a magical creature Ron. It has lived to see the destruction and restoration of the world three times over. If anything can help us destroy You-Know-Who it's got to be the Simurgh. Listen: 'It's original home was the Tree of Knowledge, and thus it's powers stem from Goodness and Light. For this reason it can sometimes be enlisted to fight an evil force. But the seeker must have pure intentions and will be tested in several ways.'"

       Ron's eyes grew wide as realization dawned on him.

       "Hey guys, what did I miss?" Harry's voice jolted Ron's mind back and he gratefully accepted the toast that was handed to him.

       "I was just about to tell him about the feather," Hermione said as she brushed her toast to the side.

       "You're welcome," Harry deadpanned. He sat down beside Ron and motioned for her to continue.

       "The feather is how we summon the Simurgh. Hundreds of years ago the Simurgh took Rostam's sick father up to her nest and nursed him back to health."

       "Who's Rostam?"

       "Honestly Ron! Don't you ever read your History of Magic books? He was a great wizard in ancient Persia, but he wasn't very keen on keeping it a secret. Of course in those times most wizards practiced magic openly. Anyways, he was said to have been as strong as Hercules—who _as I'm sure you already know_ was also a wizard—and won many battles for the muggles with his magic. He was muggle-born, but the Simurgh took his father up to her nest and nursed him to health. When he was well enough to return to his city, she gave him eight of her feathers and told him that if ever he should need her assistance, all he had to do was burn one of these feathers and she would come to his aid. Now, most of the feathers have been either used or lost, but there is one left intact." She paused. Ron was completely enveloped by the tale, but she feared what his reaction would be to the last part. "It is currently in Mount Vitosha—in Bulgaria."

       Of the many hundreds of reactions she had been expecting from him, quietly smiling wasn't one of them. He didn't yell, he didn't even flinch; he just allowed a bemused smile spread across his face as he looked at her. "Bulgaria?"

       "Er, yes. Nowhere near Viktor of course," she assured him. _Why did I just say that?_ "Er, right. Viktor is in the province of Varna, which is on the Northwestern end of the country, and Mount Vitosha is in Grad Sofiya, which is on the eastern end. Lovely place, Varna." She was rambling now and Harry tried desperately to hide the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape from his lips, but Ron displayed his smirk openly. Over the summer Hermione had written to Harry explaining to him that she decided not to go to Bulgaria because of the age difference and because she "just didn't feel anything for him." She had told Ron however that she _had_ gone to see Viktor Krum and that she had had a lovely time with him. When Ron learned the truth from Harry—who finally got so sick of listening to Ron rant about _Vicky_ that he gave in to shut him up—his jealousies had subsided and were replaced with the smug realization that Hermione was _trying_ to make him jealous. Ron was acting so much like Percy whenever the subject of Krum came up that Harry often regretted telling him the truth, but that thought was quickly dismissed every time he was witness to Hermione trying to make Ron jealous by bringing the issue up. "Anyways," she continued, "It is said to be deep within the Cave of Virtue. Ron, if we can get this feather, the next time Harry comes face to face with You-Know-Who he may be able to get rid of him for good. The Simurgh has been known to 'quell sources of evil beyond imagination.' That pretty much sums up You-Know-Who doesn't it?"

       "'We get the feather?' How on _earth_ are 'we' going to get to Bulgaria? We can't exactly just pop out of here whenever we want you know. We'd be expelled!"

       "Yes but there _is_ a time during the winter where you _can_ leave the Hogwarts grounds," Harry responded. "A time when you're free for two whole weeks."

       "'You?!' Have you lost your mind?"

       "Ron, Harry _can't_ go with us. You know the moment he stepped foot off of the Hogwarts grounds You-Know-Who would track him down. You and I could go without arousing much suspicion. You and I could tell the school that we're going home for the Holidays, and tell our parents that we're staying at Hogwarts again. Then we board the Hogwarts express, and once we arrive in London get on a train to Bulgaria. The town around Mount Vitosha is a relatively rural place with few lights. If we wait until midnight we could ride our brooms to the Wizard town at the base of the mountain without being spotted."

       Ron leaned across the table towards her, "are you sure this isn't a ploy to get alone with me Hermione," he teased. "Because you know we don't have to go to all these lengths. Why, I bet there's no one in the boy's dorms right now!

       "Very funny, Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

       "Or, we could always use the Shrieking Shack. _No one_ will find us there,"

       "Ronald Weasley!" Hermione's entire face was pink now and it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or annoyance or both.

       "Ok! Ok! Sorry. Hermione listen to yourself will you? Do you have any idea how much it'll cost to go to Bulgaria?!"

       "I'm paying," Harry piped up. He had been too busy laughing at Ron's pathetic attempt at flirting to say much. Ron opened his mouth to object, but was promptly cut off by Harry; "And there's nothing you can say to stop me so just give it up!"

       "Harry, you've only got Galleons. That'll be fine for lodging and food while we're there but what about muggle money to get us on the train to Bulgaria?"

       "I'm going to tell my parents that Harry needs to send away for something from the muggle world for a Christmas present, and that he needs some money from his vault exchanged for muggle money at Gringotts," Hermione jumped in. "I'll send them Harry's key and they'll send back the money and the key with Hedwig with plenty of time to spare."

       There was nothing else for Ron to question. It seemed they had thought of everything. There was also the matter of being alone with Hermione during winter break to consider. All in all it didn't sound like a displeasing plan. Again he let an amused smile crawl across his face and looked at Harry. "So, how do we get to this Cave of Virtue and what happens once we get this feather?"

       "Well," Hermione replied, "that's a bit tricky. You see it's bewitched so that no human eyes could ever find it—wizard or not."

       Ron raised an eyebrow quizzically but Hermione didn't have time to continue. She had just realized that they would be late for their classes and suggested they adjourn until the afternoon. They met back at the same table after classes and sat for hours discussing the finer points of the plan only to leave when Madam Pince came to tell them that it was time for her to lock up and that they would have to return to the Common Room. As they made their ways up to their dormitories Ron mused that he had probably spent more time in the library that day than he had spent in his five years at Hogwarts combined. There was one part of the plan he wasn't comfortable with—one part that was gnawing away at his stomach every time he thought of it: The part about finding the cave.

(A/N: What do you think? Should I continue or just give it up while I'm ahead? I don't have a Beta reader so this is about as good as it gets. If you have any comments on characterization I'd really appreciate it as that is one of my biggest challenges. Hope you Enjoy!)


	2. Preparing to Transform and Hermione’s Co...

Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, I'd be a millionaire by now & I'd be cranking out books 5, 6 & 7 a heck of a lot faster so my fans wouldn't be going gradually INSANE!!! Ehem. Right—sorry.

A/N Please let me know what you think. I still think the characters are a bit bland—especially Harry. I'm *so* horrible at writing that guy man! *sigh* By the way do you guys think I should bring Krum into the picture in Bulgaria? Stir some things up maybe? Let me know what you think. Anyways, on to the chapter!

*~*Preparing to Transform and Hermione's Confession*~*

       "Do we _have_ to become Animagi," Ron whined in the common room later that week. He had an innate distrust of Animagi ever since he found out that his pet rat Scabbers was really an evil wizard who had been responsible for the death of his best friend's parents. He eyed his gigantic volume of The Animagi's Guide: Transformation and Beyond with weariness.

       "Ron, just think about it," Hermione replied. "It'll be just like the Marauders—you can have a secret weapon to use in times of trouble. And only Harry and I will know about it."

       Ron looked at Hermione and the twinkle in her eyes. _We've _definitely _been a bad influence on her_, he though. "You know, the Hermione from first year would never have said something like that."

       "Well, the Hermione of first year didn't have the future of the wizarding world on her shoulders. Ron, do you realize if we accomplish this, we could get rid of You-Know-Who permanently? If we do this, we could all be safe for once and for all."

       "Right," Ron turned back to his book with new vigor and continued to read the warnings on the dangerousness of the transformation. "So, we can pick any animal we want to become right?"

       "Well, I'm trying to find more information about the Cave of Virtue. Finding it with animal eyes is one thing, but I think we should pick animal bodies that can help us once we're inside too. So far I've found very little literature on the subject," she shuffled in her large chair and exchanged "The Bulgarian Mountains: A Magical Perspective" for the copy of "Legendary Chambers" sitting on the table beside her. "The most I've found so far is that we must cross the lava of the mountain, which is really an inactive Volcano." 

       "Well, that's easy," Ron said. "We can use the brooms. We'll just fly over."

       "No, we can't use them because our magic doesn't work in the Cave of Virtue," she said. "I don't know how, but in that cave, we're as good as muggles. We'll have to think of another way across."

       "Supposing we _do_ find another way. What's next?"

       "Well, according to 'Legendary Chambers' the Cave has never been breeched successfully. What lies beyond it has remained a mystery all these years, so—"

       "So what you're trying to say is, you don't know, right?"

       "Well," she huffed, "it's not like I _don't_ know. It's just that—"

       "You can't find it in one of your books?" He finished. "None of your sacred volumes can tell you the answer and it's driving you crazy, isn't it?"

       She glared at Ron and promptly plopped her books on the table beside her and stood up. "_You_ just worry about reading that book and learning how to transform without killing yourself! Let _me_ worry about the 'sacred books!'" With that she stormed out of the common room. 

       Ron shrugged as he guessed she was heading back down to the library to burry her head in some more legends. He let his eyes wonder out to the calm Saturday rustle in the breeze and sighed. _ If I don't have some fun soon,_ he thought, _I'm going to spontaneously combust. It's not fair! Harry's out there practicing Quidditch and I'm stuck in here with "A Wizard's Guide to Deception" in my lap!_ No sooner had the thought been entertained than he violently pushed it out of his mind. Harry had been through things he could only imagine and it was only fair that he had a little fun now and then. He looked back to the oversized volume in his lap and took a deep breath as he returned his attention to the warnings on the results of improper practice of the Animagus transformation.

       "'Improper execution of the transformation could result in serious injury or death.' Whoa! How are we ever supposed to get this by Christmas break?"

**

       Ron and Hermione spent the whole of October practicing Animagus transformation. They decided to start small and work their way up. The key to this type of transformation was fact that they were turning a living thing into another living thing. It wasn't like the porcupines-turn-pin-cushions they had worked on in class. They started out with insects and practiced turning a fly into a bee and a bee into an ant. Their first subjects weren't lucky enough to have survived the transformation and by the end of the first day they had a pile of bee-ants and fly-bees kicking and buzzing sporadically. The sight of a half-transformed insect was enough to fuel Ron's determination to get it right and for the whole month he studied furiously from the book he had come to regard as a 3rd companion. He was beginning to understand Hermione's attachment to her "Hogwarts: A History." Not to say that he enjoyed reading the rather laborious 750 page How-To guide. He simply had it with him so much that he began to feel almost naked without it and found himself—much to Hermione and Harry's amusement and his own horror—quoting it on several occasions. By Halloween he had had enough. It was time for a break.

       "Hermione Granger, I forbid you to spend one more minute in the library today," he announced over breakfast that Sunday morning. "It's Halloween, it's a Sunday and you haven't had fun in over a month."

       "Ron, to me the library _is_ fun!"

       "All right, fine. _I_ haven't had fun in over a month. Same difference. Now, you Harry and I are going to spend an afternoon sitting around discussing mindless things, playing Exploding Snap and Chess and I don't want to hear one word about the library, Animagi or the Simurgh, am I understood?"

       Harry laughed as he watched the horrified look on Hermione's face. "What am I to do then," she asked rather confused.

       "Well, have fun of course!" Ron turned to Harry and rolled his eyes. "You _do_ remember fun, don't you?"

       "Honestly!" she huffed.

       "Look, Mione, you and Ron have been working on this all month. You're a lot closer to mastering it than you think, and Ron's starting to get the hang of the insects."

       "Hey!" Ron playfully threw a bread roll at Harry in offence.

       "Ehem, as I was saying," the roll the side of his head knocking his glasses slightly askew and he left them that way hoping to illicit a smile from Hermione with his silliness. "You two should take a break. Just one day of relaxation, I promise. Tomorrow you can go back to slave driving and your stuffy library." He swatted a second piece of bread coming from _her_ direction, which knocked his glasses completely off his face, and into the oatmeal he was trying to eat.

       "Fine, but it better be worth it," she turned to Ron with a challenging look in her eyes.

**

       They spent the entire morning out-of-doors. After spending an entire month cooped up in the common room and library Ron wouldn't hear of spending any more time inside. Bundled up in their cloaks and gloves to guard against the fall chill they went to visit Hagrid's hut to elp him deal with the latest stock of contraband creatures he had gotten his hands on. It was lunchtime before the last of the Ki-Rin—a frightening beast with the head of a dragon and the scaly body of a horse—were back in their cages quietly munching on feed.

       Back in the Great Hall, the threesome sat contentedly eating their lunch. Harry had missed Ron and Hermione's company over the passed month. It seemed every time he wanted to relax and joke around Ron had his nose buried in a book. Harry had been used to that from Hermione, but he and Ron had always been able to enjoy a little down time in the common rooms in the evenings. The passed month had been a bit boring for him. It wasn't as though he was ungrateful—he understood and appreciated that they were doing all this _for him,_ but he just wished that they could have more days like this—days when things would be like they were before Voldemort's resurrection.  

       "Even then it wasn't normal," he muttered to himself.

       Ron looked up from his meal. "Eh?"

       "Nothing," he replied. He thought about the sacrifice his friends were making for him and the difficulties involved in the task. Suddenly he had a stroke of genius. He wouldn't allow them to do this by themselves, but he couldn't let them know he was going to help. He couldn't let anyone know.

       "I can't believe you'll be flying all the way to Grad Sofiya from the south of Bulgaria!" He said nonchalantly. Hermione suddenly dropped her spoon and splashed soup all over the table. With shaking hands she cleaned up the mess and reached for another spoon. "You all right Hermione?"

       "Of course I am," she snapped. "I just lost my grip on the spoon, that's all."

       "She's lost it on more things than that spoon, I'll wager," Ron whispered to Harry.

       "I heard that!"

       "Don't be cross Hermione! I was only joking."

       Harry decided to continue if nothing else but to stop the impending argument that threatened to ruin the great day they'd been having. "The most I've ever flown was around the Quidditch fields. I've never actually done any long distance flying. You must be really excited!"

       Again there was a clatter as Hermione dropped her goblet spilling the content everywhere. She looked deathly pale and muttered something about needing a nap and ran off towards the Gryffindor Tower.

       "What on earth was that about," Ron asked dumbfounded.

       "Your guess is as good as mine, Ron."

**

       Ron climbed the stairs up the girls dormitory and paused behind the closed door of the 5th years' room. _What am I doing here?_ He thought. _Maybe I should go back and ask Ginny to talk to her. I really shouldn't be here._ Losing his nerve, he decided the best thing to do would be to stay out of Hermione's way as long as she was upset. He turned and took a step out to walk back to the common room when the door behind him swung open.

       "Oh," he heard a feminine voice draw a breath in surprise. He spun around to find Hermione, hair wildly spread out as if she'd been tearing away at it with hexes. She had regained some of her color but she still looked somewhat pale.

       "Er—hi," he said. "I…uh…"

       "Hi."

       "Are you all right?"

       "I think so." Hermione looked down and couldn't face him as she said this. He knew instantly that she _wasn't_ all right. Instinctively he drew his arms around her waist and before either of them knew what was going on they were holding each other. He could smell the soft fragrance of her hair and feel the warmth of her body. Suddenly it became painfully clear that they were in an embrace. It seemed that she too had realized the situation and they awkwardly pulled away from each other.

       "Mione, what's wrong," there was a pleading tone in his voice that she couldn't deny.

       She turned back into the room and sad down on her bed. He followed her and sat across from her on what he assumed to be her trunk. "I—I'm worried," she finally said.

       "Why," he prodded.

       "It's just, well," she cast her eyes down again, unable to look him in the eye. "I couldn't find anything in those books. I've been looking all months and I can't find anything to help us once we pass the lava." She bit her lip and prepared herself for the laughing and teasing that she was certain would follow.

       "Is that all?" His voice was so full of kindness that she was taken aback by it. "Hermione, you can't find what isn't known. Maybe no one's gotten passed the lava before. I mean, the feather's still there for a reason, don't you think?"

       "Yeah, you're right." She continued to look down and didn't move from her place on the bed.

       "That's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

       "Of course it is," she said. She quickly got up and started shoving him towards the door. "Now, if you don't mind I'd like to straighten up a few things before I come back down. You and Harry play some chess or something and I'll be down in a minute."

       "Hermione," Ron probed. "What is it? You can tell me. It can't be any worse than not being able to find something in the library, can it?"

       She paused in the doorway and bit her lip again.

       "_Can_ it?" he asked again.

       "I'm—I'mafraidofflying," she mumbled.

       "You're what?"

       "I'm afraid to fly, ok? I'm terrified."

       Ron had to bite his tongue to suppress the laughter. She was confiding in him and he didn't want to embarrass or upset her.

       "How can you be afraid to fly? You spent all of first year learning how to do it."

       "Yeah but I never went very far—or very high for that matter. We're going to have to fly halfway across the country of Bulgaria and we're going to have to do it high enough to not be seen. I, I just can't. I don't know what I'm going to do. All month I've kept myself busy worrying about the Cave and transforming so I didn't have to think about it, but today…"

       "Today you had nothing to distract you."

       She nodded. Her face was hot and she knew she was blushing from embarrassment. Ron was an excellent flyer who was very good at Quidditch, and Harry was the youngest seeker in a century. She hated not being good at something and it made it even worse that her two best friends excelled at it. "I read some books, you know, on pointers and how to deal with the fear and stuff," Hermione said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

       "Hermione," Ron said amused. "You don't learn to get over a fear by reading a book. Even _you_ should know that! You just gotta _do_ it. You gotta get out there and _fly_."

       "I know, I just. I don't know."

       "Ok, listen. I'll help you ok? You're helping me with this transformation thing, so I'll help you with the flying thing, deal?"

       "Ok. Thanks Ron."

       "Don't mention it. Now, let's get downstairs before Harry starts getting any ideas," a flash of mischief danced in Ron's eyes and Hermione and Ron made their way back to the common room.

(A/N: Ok, it got pretty cheesy & fluffy in the end. What do you guys think? Should I rewrite it? Make it a wee bit less sappy? If you think this part is fluffy just _wait_ until I post the next section—it's the flying lessons. Ron will finally get to hold his arms around Hermione; they'll have a close call, and raise a few suspicions while they're at it. ;) It'll be incredibly cheesy—just thought I'd warn you!)


	3. Hermione Soars and Secrets Abound

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own all of these & I'm filthy rich—I wish. Right, so I'm poor and the characters and their world belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play make-believe with them.

A/N: Ya know how some stories seem to simply envelope you & won't let you have a moment's peace until they're finished?? I think this is one of those, so if you actually like my fluff keep checking every couple of hours 'cuz I can't seem to do anything but write. So—uh—yeah. On with the show.

A/N part 2: Uh right, I know I said "On with the show" just now, but I had to say something: Thank you thank you thank you to those who reviewed. It means a lot to me! I hate to admit it but my little ego *does* demand attention (annoying little bugger, ain't it?) and the fact that you guys took notice of my story means a lot to me! Now that it's been fed (the ego that is) I think I can crank out a couple more chapters a day! I *hope!* Here's a little teaser R/Hr chapter—hope you enjoy!

*~* Hermione Soars and Secrets Abound*~*

       They set the date for the flying lesson for the following Saturday and decided to spend the next week concentrating on the animagus transformation. It was an incredibly tricky procedure. It had taken Harry's father and Sirius nearly four years to perfect it, but Ron and Hermione only had 6 weeks left. Harry had been acting strange all week. He was always asking them all sorts of weird questions and spent a lot of time in the library by himself. Every morning when Ron awoke he would find that Harry had already gotten up, and in the evenings he would be the last to get to bed. By Friday morning Ron had resolved to get to the bottom of whatever his friend was up to.

       "Harry," Ron said as he poured salt over his eggs. "Could you hand me a piece of bread?"

       "Sure," Harry obligingly handed him some toast.

       "Could you hand me some bacon?"

       "Sure."

       "Could you hand me a cup of that porridge?"

       "Sure"

       "Could you tell me what on earth you're up to?"

       "Su—what?"

       Ron was many things, but smooth wasn't one of them. It was ok though, because he didn't expect Harry to tell him. He just wanted to catch him off guard, when a good excuse was the furthest thing from his mind.

       "Could. You. Tell. Me. What. You're. Up. To?"

       "Ron, what are you talking about?"

       "Harry you've been acting queer all week! Running off at odd hours of the day, spending all your time in the library. Your robes look ragged, you've got bags under your Boy-Who-Lived-Eyes and you're quieter than I've ever seen you! What is with you?"

       Harry opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Ron.

       "And don't tell me it's your homework because I've seen how few assignments you've managed to turn in this week! It's worse than me!"

       "Er, I've only been. See, Hermione asked me to…" Harry's gaze turned to Hermione and noticed the questioning look in her eye. He sent her a silent plea begging her to agree with whatever he said. "Hermione's been really worried about that whole Cave of Virtue thing, so I offered to look and see if I can find anything about it while you guys practice transforming." He ran his hand nervously through his hair. "You know, you guys are doing so much already. I just thought I'd do something to help out."

       Guilt washed over Ron's face and he paled slightly. "I'm sorry Harry. I just didn't know what was going on and I was, you know, worried. I thought maybe you were having dreams again or something and keeping it from us. I should have known you would never keep anything from us."

       Harry avoided Hermione's eyes for the rest of the meal but he couldn't evade her in Herbology. They were partners and even Hermione's drive to do well in class couldn't protect him.

       "What was that about," she asked as she trimmed the leaves of the shrivelfig.

       "Well, you needed to trim back the leaves before picking off the fruit," Harry instructed. Hermione turned to him with a look that could kill giants. "Er, right. You're not in much of a joking mood, are you?"

       "No, Harry I'm not," she whispered with such intensity that it would have been less frightening if she were yelling at him. "Now I'm only going to ask you one more time. What. Was. That. About?"

       "Hermione, you and Ron, you're my best friends, but sometimes there are things I just can't tell you."

       "Why not? Can't you trust us?"

       "Well, of course I can trust you. It's just that..." Harry trailed off thinking deeply. "Right. Do you remember third year when you had to use the Time-Turner to get to all of your classes in time but you couldn't tell me and Ron about it?"

       "Y-Yes," she replied slowly. She didn't like where this was going, but she had to admit he had a point.

       "It's something that I can't tell you. I would if I could, but if I did it would ruin everything and I can't do that to you and Ron. It has to be a secret."

       "Harry, if you're in trouble—"

       "I'm not."

       "Are you sure?"

       "I promise Hermione, if I get into any trouble you'll know right away." He smiled mischievously and moved out of the line of fire from her playful fist just in time.

**

       Hermione paced the dorm room nervously. She had come to Ginny to ask for something but now she felt a bit silly. Ginny sat patiently on her bed watching Hermione with amusement. She had an idea what she would be asking about. After all, she hadn't been blind to the fact that Hermione and Ron had spent every waking moment together for the past month "studying" in the library or doing something they wouldn't divulge in the empty classrooms. She always knew it would be a matter of time before they would—

       "Ginny, I need to ask you something."

       _Finally_, she thought. "Ok, what's on your mind?"

       "Ginny, I--." Suddenly something outside caught Hermione's attention "Well I'm afraid I don't--." She crossed the room to the window and peered out.

       _Spit it out,_ Ginny thought. _It's not like I don't already know!_

       "I think that I—I lost my copy of Animagi Mutacio." She spinned around looking at Ginny with an unreadable expression on her face, "have you seen it?"

       _Her book????!!!!_ Ginny thought

       "Uh, no Hermione. I'm sorry I haven't seen it."

       "That's all right, if you do will you let me know?"

       "Of course."

       With that Hermione left the room. If there had been an invisible observer in the room at that moment they would have seen one girl wearing a very confused expression on her face, and the other looking slightly flustered.

       Ron was in deep conversation with Harry when she descended the staircase to the common room. He was holding two brooms in one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other. 

       "I'm telling you, you pull that move on Malfoy and he'll be dazed the rest of the game! Serves him right, the little git!"

       "I hardly think Harry stooping down to Malfoy's level would be a very Gryffindor-like way to win, do you?"

       Ron looked back at Hermione who was approaching them with a smug expression on her face. "You don't even know what move I'm talking about," he said.

       "Maybe not, but anything that leaves your opponent 'dazed for the rest of the game' sounds like something a Slytherin would do. Now, can we get this flying thing over with? I have some research I want to do in the library."

       "Oh no you don't. You can spend all day tomorrow in that stuffy library. Today," Ron held up a rickety old broom up to her, "you fly."

       She took the broom and inspected it. She noticed that Ron had given her his old Shooting Star and kept Harry's Firebolt for himself. "How generous of you, Ron," she said as she walked towards the hole leading out of the Gryffindor Tower.

       "Well it's not like you'd know what to do with a Firebolt if you had one," he called out as he ran after her. "Besides," he continued once they passed through the portrait hole and made their way down to the Quidditch field, "these things are very sensitive. The slightest twitch could send you reeling in that direction. Best you started out with a less—er—temperamental broom."

       "Right."

       Hermione's stomach churned with every step she took. She felt sure she would fall to her certain death leaving the remains of Hogwarts' most promising student all over the Quidditch field.

       "Ok, Hermione. First thing you do is saddle your broom."

       "I'm fine with the getting on part Ron. It's the flying about part that's got me in jitters!"

       "Ok. Fine, let's kick off and fly at 10 feet, how's that?"

       Hermione nodded and kicked off the ground. The broom shook underneath her hands and as a result she swung back and forth like a giant pendulum.

       "Hermione what are you doing?"

       "Trying desperately not to get thrown off by your ridiculously disturbed broom, what does it look like I'm doing?"

       "Trying _to_ get thrown off by a ridiculously confused broom," he laughed. "You can't pull left and right like that and expect the broom _not_ to go that way!" Now she was moving in even broader sweeps her face was going from pale yellow to a rather pungent green. "Hermione! Come down, you're going to hurt yourself!"

       The broom suddenly made a steep dive and headed for a clash collision with the ground. "Pull up Hermione! Pull UP!"

       She finally pulled up but didn't stop when she was out of harms way. Her eyes were closed and she was pulling up with all her might. When she finally opened her eyes she was well above 50 feet in the air. It wasn't as high as the Quidditch rings but it was much higher than she had ever gone before.

       "What are you *doing*?" She heard a voice call from bellow.

       "I just thought I'd have a bit of a look around before I fell violently to my death! What do you think I'm doing? Help me!"

       "What?"

       "Help me!"

       "I can't hear you! Hold on, I'm coming to help!"

       Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to hold the broom steady as Ron rose from the ground. As he drew nearer she noticed that his mouth was open in a wide grin and as he approached he couldn't hide the torrent of laughter. "What…are…you…doing?" he gasped out between chuckles. She didn't give him the pleasure of a reply. "Awe don't be mad, Mione. It's just…didn't you take flying with us 1st year? And as I recall you did quite well."

       "Well enough to pass," she admitted, "and I haven't touched a broom since. I don't even remember how to land! This was a mistake. Do you think it's too late to learn to apparate?"

       "Look Hermione, there's nothing to it. It's just because you're afraid. Listen; let me take you back onto the ground and then we can come up together. I'll fly us around a bit until you get the hang of it, all right?"

       Hermione blushed slightly and looked down at her broom, which was a mistake. Immediately she felt woozy and almost fell off the broom. Had Ron not had the fast reflexes of a youngest brother born of years of torture, and had he not been riding a Firebolt, she certainly would have fallen off the broom. Fortunately though, he swooped to her side quickly enough to grab hold of her broom, straighten her up and slowly lower the both of them to the ground.

       When they finally touched down Hermione was shaking uncontrollably. As soon as her feet touched down on land she let go of the broom and threw her arms around him. Unfortunately, Ron was at that very moment reaching down to set the Firebolt on the ground. Unsure of what to do he froze in an awkward half bending position, his arms pinned under her embrace.

       Realizing their rather strange positioning, Hermione let go and stepped back to an arm's reach from Ron. "Uh, thanks Ron."

       "You're welcome," he muttered unable to look her in the eye. "Right. Ok. So I'll, uh, you know, sit behind you and we'll fly together. So you sit and I'll uh, sit behind you. Right. Ok."

       With ears the color of the Slytherin house Ron mounted the broom behind Hermione. It was then that he realized this was going to be far more awkward than he had imagined. _What do I do with my hands?_ He thought. It was far from the romantic situation he had envisioned the night before. When it finally came down to it he felt a little strange putting his arms around her waist. _Breath, man_, he thought. _This is just Hermione and you are just teaching her how to get comfortable with flying._ With a surge of determination he put his hands on her waist. He felt her flinch under his touch and immediately withdrew his hands. _Should have known she wouldn't want to be touched by you, you git! Right. Hands. Where do they go again? On her shoulders. Right. Shoulders are safe. _He put his hands on her shoulders and told her to kick off. As soon as she did so the broom started veering back and forth again. Instinctively he grabbed the broom from in front of her and steadied it. His arms were now around her and he didn't look like he had tried to do it! With a rush of confidence he pulled up on the stick and the broom moved up ten more feet. Startled Hermione pressed against him and clutched the broom so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

       "No wonder your broom was out of control," he laughed. "You're so scared your clutching it with the death grip! I'd try to buck you off too if I were the broom!"

       Realizing the implications of such a situation he promptly shut his mouth and pulled the broom up a bit higher. "Right, ehem. So, now we're about 25 feet in the air. Not so bad, is it?"

       "Mmhm," was all she could muster.

       "Right, let's take you back down a notch, then." He pushed down on the broom slightly and they descended a few feet. Hermione relaxed her grip on the broom but still pressed ever so slightly against him for support. He found that he didn't really mind and leaned forward a bit to make her feel safer. He had no idea how it would make her feel safer or why he wanted to have his arms around her so badly but he pushed those errant thoughts out of his head and forced himself to think clearly.

       "Er, right. Is this ok?"

       "I—I think this is ok, yes."

       "Ok, let's fly around a bit until you're comfortable. Then we'll go up a few feet and do this again, all right?"

       They spent the rest of the afternoon circling the Quidditch field, gaining altitude gradually. By the end of the afternoon they had flown 50 feet up and Hermione was gaining courage. Only once did she yelp in fear when Ron had lost his concentration due to the smell of her hair—_what was it she was wearing? Was that perfume?_—but she had assumed that to have been the fault of her still-shaking hands and he wasn't about to correct her on that one. They had decided however that she should practice at least one afternoon each weekend to get herself sufficiently comfortable with flying to make the cross-country trek. Next week, however, she wouldn't need Ron's assistance on her broom and he would be free to fly beside her. He wasn't quite sure if he was disappointed about not flying so close to her or relieved about not having the distraction of whatever it was she had sprayed into her hair.

**

       As the following week drew to a close, Ron and Hermione had an important decision to make. They had mastered the transformation of a bee into an ant, an ant into a ferret, a mouse into a toad, a toad into a fly and a fly into a—rather clumsy—deer. The time had come to begin experimenting on themselves, but before they could begin they had to decide what animals they would become. Hermione had decided that the only way to cross the lava was to fly over, so she reasoned that if she were an eagle and Ron were something reasonably sized she could carry him over with her. That was about as much of a head start she could get from the information on the cave. She prayed Ron would pick something useful to be. He had been going on all week about cheetahs and jaguars.

       "Honestly Ronald!" She had taken to using his full name when exasperated with him, "How is a cheetah or a jaguar going to help us?"

       "I don't know but I do know I'm not spending all my free time learning to become a toad or a rat!" Hermione rolled her eyes. Ever since Scabbers, Ron had a strong distaste for rodents and was constantly putting them down.

       "Well, then be a lizard or something! I don't care just pick something! And make sure it's useful?"

       "How in the world is a lizard going to be useful?"

       Frustrated, Hermione glared at him and turned back to her insect specimens, many of which had been transformed into much larger animals. She shouted a charm to return them back to their natural forms and turned to the table. Only then did Ron realize that she was stuffing her books into her bag and was preparing to storm out of the empty classroom.

       "Where are you going?" He called out as she stomped towards the door.

       "Somewhere to start practicing my Eagle transfiguration. I sincerely hope _you_ make a decision before it becomes too late to learn out to do it!" With that she turned, opened the door and marched out.

       _She's gone batty,_ he thought. _She can't be serious about trying the transfiguration by herself. It's dangerous! What if something goes wrong and she can't transform back to her natural state?_ He grabbed his things and followed her out into the hallway. He followed as she walked out to the grounds, but before he could exit the massive hall he was stopped by Harry who was looking more haggard than usual.

       "Ron!" Harry ran up and doubled over beside, trying to catch his breath. "Has there been an owl for me today?"

       "An owl?"

       "From Snuffles?"

       "Oh, er, not that I know of. Why? Is everything all right?"

       "Fine, I just…well I fell asleep for a bit and I was afraid maybe I'd missed it."

       "It would probably have woken you up Harry, don't you think?"

       "Right, what was I thinking?" Harry continued to breath hard and a sudden wheeze sounded strangely like a "hoot!" making Ron wonder if Harry had really been sleeping. It sounded more like he'd been running a marathon than sleeping through owl deliveries. "I'll, uh, see you at dinner then?"

       "Right," and with that Harry turned and ran back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. _He's getting stranger by the year_, Ron thought. _I think You-Know-Who's really getting to him_. Ron turned his attention back to the grounds and set out to find Hermione before she hurt herself.

(A/N: Ok, the whole flying bit is a blatant and unforgivable rip off of Adnap Nottap's wonderful story "In Which Hermione Finds that Flying Can Be Fun" which can be found at: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=461085 Sorry Adnap—I couldn't resist. You put them in such a deliciously embarrassing situation that I just had to snatch it up. Hope you don't mind—if you do I'll find something else & rewrite the chapter, God willing.)


	4. Ron’s Animagus Form and Harry’s Special ...

Disclaimer: By now you guys have all realized I'm not using anything original. Not mine, never will be mine, never could be mine. I just like to pretend.

A/N: What on earth is wrong with the world tonight? I couldn't get fanfiction.net or my yahoo mailbox to work! Grrr! Sorry, it took so long to post this. It's partly my fault too *bashful grin* I expected to get at least chapters 4, 5, and 6 out today but I was sick which made following up on thought processes very difficult (take that last sentence as case and point), and I was talking to a very attractive friend online (*Steve*--not that you guys asked :-D), and he was sending me some really awesome music. Anyways, here's what I have so far. I hope you enjoy. Sorry again if it's not up to par. Blame it on the pounding headache & the distracting hottie.

*~* Ron's Animagus Form and Harry's Special Owl *~*

       Ron jogged out onto the extensive Hogwarts grounds and looked from side to side; there was no sign of Hermione. Then a thought suddenly struck him and he looked up; no eagles either. _Humph_. He decided the best plan of action would be to circle the grounds, so he headed for the lake first. Taking the longer rout, Ron went up to the edges of the Forbidden Forrest and walked the perimeter of the grounds to the lake. This way he would maximize his visibility and reduce the chance of someone else holding him up. He simply had to find Hermione before she tried anything stupid. When he got to the lake he looked around for some sign of her. Finding nothing he sad down at the bank and looked at the giant tentacle breaking the surface of the water. 

       "You haven't seen her have you?" he asked. In response the tentacle splashed water all around it and went back under the water. Ron sighed and stood up to try the other end of the grounds but was stopped short when he beheld who—what was standing behind him.

       Hermione—or what he hoped was still Hermione—stood behind him. There was the body of an eagle with an eagle's head, but it had Hermione's massively bushy hair sticking all over the place. One wing protruded from one side and her arm protruded from the other side. Both her legs were intact—if intact meant two fully human legs sticking out of an eagle torso. He wished he was one of those sensitive and caring heroes in shinning armor who would leap to her rescue with nothing but concern on their faces. He—ickle Ronniekins that he was—laughed outright.

       Hermione—or the eagle rather—opened her mouth to protest but the only sound that escaped her beak was a rather high-pitched "Squawk". This sent Ron into a whole new bout of laughter and it was some time before he could compose himself enough to speak.

       "I'm…sorry…Hermione," he gasped out. "Let…me…help…you!"

       "Squawk!" Hermione said in agreement. This sent Ron into yet another torrent of laughter. When he finally managed to calm himself he pulled out his wand, pointed it to her and stood to his full height.

       "Reparo!" He shouted.

       "Squawk!" Her wing began to lengthen and the feathers shrank slightly. Her torso and head started stretching upwards as if someone were pulling on them with string. Ron watched in disbelief as she transfigured back into her natural state. It was disturbing. He had seen the insects transforming from one state to another, but this was different. Watching Hermione—_his_ Hermione—transforming in a way that looked so, well, painful, was disturbing. There was no better word for it.

       "Thank you, Ron," Hermione was a bit flustered and not a little embarrassed about needing to be rescued from her first attempt at the transformation.

       "You're welcome, I think." Hermione raised her eyebrow at him, and he continued. "Are you ok? I mean, it looked like, you, I hurt you or something."

       "No, that's just how the transformation works. You remember when we took that Polyjuice Potion?"

       "Yeah, turning into Crabbe wasn't the most pleasant experience in the world." 

       "Listen," she began. "Ron, I'm sorry I snapped at you."

       _What?!?!?!?_ She was apologizing? Had this ever happened before? "Er, it's ok. I think you were right. I should hurry up and pick something."

       "Yeah, you know. It's your choice. Pick whatever you want." She was looking down now. "Just make sure whatever it is I can carry it," she added.

       "Right. Let's go back to the classroom and work on your eagle. Just promise me you're not going to try that alone again," he laughed. "I don't think Madam Pomfrey will take kindly to mending a patient that's half human half pigeon."

       "I was _not_ a pigeon! I was an eagle."

       "Oh, right," he corrected himself. "Looked like an eagle to me," he said under his breath, and then dodged the impending fist and began to jog slightly ahead of her towards the Great Hall.

       "Where's Harry," Hermione asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. "It's not like him to skip out on lunch."

       "Maybe he finally got his owl."

       "Er, what?"

       "I saw him when I came looking for you. He was all upset—thought he'd slept through an owl from Snuffles or something. Maybe he got his letter."

       "Ron, I'm worried about Harry."

       "Why? What do you mean?"

       "Well, he looks tired all the time, he's hardly around, he's been slipping in all of his classes—"

       "Well that's just because you're not around to help him with his homework anymore!"  
       "Ron! This is serious."

       "If it were something he wanted to tell us about he would have done it already. We can't force it out of him. Whatever it is, I'm sure Harry will tell us." Nevertheless, Ron decided that he would ask Harry about his erratic behavior tonight. He took another bite of his sandwich and that train of thought was quickly discarded as he watched George and Fred pull their latest prank on a poor unsuspecting friend of theirs. _And I thought being their *brother* was bad,_ he thought.

**

       It was well passed midnight that evening when Harry came staggering into the boys' dorm. He removed the invisibility cloak he'd been wearing and threw it on his trunk. He changed quietly and opened the screens above his four-post bed.

       "Out late again?" Ron's voice nearly catapulted Harry into the ceiling. 

       "Er, hi Ron."

       "Hi Harry. Out late again?"

       Harry sighed. Ron wasn't going to let him sleep peacefully tonight. "I had to take care of a few things—and send a reply to Serius."

       "So you finally found the owl?"

       "What? Oh, yeah. I just went to write him back."

       "Yeah, you said that already." There was a silence as both shifted uncomfortably. "Harry, are you sure you're, you know, all right & everything?"

       "Yeah Ron, thanks for asking. I'm ok."

       Not knowing what else to say Ron just nodded and got back into bed.

       "Ron," Harry's voice broke through the silence again. "Listen, I'm going to give you an owl ok? It won't be Hedwig, it'll be another one." He paused. "A, er, special owl. Dumbledore's going to enchant it to fly twice as fast as normal owls, so you know, if anything goes wrong, you'll be able to contact me right away, ok?"

       "Ok."

       "So, you nervous?"

       "I—I don't know. We still have another month to working on the transfiguration, you know?"

       "Yeah, I know what you mean."

       "Er, right. I think I've decided what I want to transform into but I don't want to practice it with Hermione. Not until I've gotten the hang of it, you know?"

       "Why?"

       "Just because. You know how she is. 'No, you're not saying the spell right! It's Muta_CIO_, not _MUT_acio!' I just don't want to deal with it while I'm all nervous from doing it for the first time & stuff, ya know?"

       "Yeah." Harry was so exhausted that the word was barely audible.

       "Anyways, you think you could help me out tomorrow? Hermione's going to be flying and stuff so I thought I could let her do that while I practiced my transfiguration." He paused and waited for a reply. "Harry?" Still no response. "Harry?" Ron sighed and settled down into his bed. "I guess I could always ask Ginny."

**

       "Why can't you do this with Hermione," Ginny whined.

       "I told you," Ron snapped as he picked up his "Animagi's Guide" and flipped through the pages. "I don't want to do it with her."

       "Oh, well that's got to be the best reason I've heard yet."   

       "Shut up."

       "Fine," Ginny promptly stood up and started walking out of the dorm room. "I'm leaving."

       "Uh, Ginny, this is your dorm."

       "So?"

       "Ok, all right, I'm sorry ok? Please, just sit down and help me. All you have to do is do the spell I taught you if anything goes wrong."

       Ron's fingers shook slightly as he turned the pages. Finally, finding what he was looking for he began reading and pacing. "'The transformation requires great concentration and skill. The slightest distraction could result in horrible deformities for the novice Animagi.'" Ron paled slightly, but forced himself to read on. "'The key is to keep the mind clear of doubts—'" _Good luck_, he thought "'—and concentrate on the animal one plans on transforming into.' Right. Ok. Thinking."

       Ron shut his eyes in an unnaturally tight manner and began thinking as hard as he could about his animal of choice. Ginny giggled silently when she saw his tongue sticking out and his fists clench. "Mutacio," he said suddenly. He felt a stinging sensation on his head as his red hair began to fluff in a very un-human like manor and soon it began spreading all over him. The sensation crawled all over his body as it did so, leaving him feel like someone were scratching him with unbearably long fingernails. Covered in red fur, whiskers started to sprout from his now scrunched and wet nose. The sensation created by this process was utterly indescribable. He felt like sneezing and sniffing everything in sight at the same time. Suddenly it was as if someone had put the summoning charm on his face. It elongated slightly to create a shadow of a muzzle and his fingers began to web together and be covered by fur. _This is it!_ He thought. _I did it! I did it! I did—hey, what's happening?_ Suddenly everything stopped. Ginny looked at her brother with eyes wide with wonder.

       "What are you?"

       "Can't you tell?"

       "You can speak?"

       "I can talk?!? Ok, something's wrong. I'm not supposed to be able to talk. Hold on." He turned towards the mirror on the dorm's wall and nearly fell over himself in shock. There, sitting in a very strange position was a half-man half-feline that looked like it was in an inordinate amount of pain.

       "D—does it hurt?" Ginny asked.

       "Not anymore."

       "It looks horrible."

       "Thanks."

       "Sorry, it just looks like it hurts a lot."

       "Ginny,"

       "Huh?"

       "Are you going to do the 'reparo' or am I going to have to claw your eyes out?"

       "What? Oh! I thought since, you know, you could talk, you could do it yourself."

       "Good point." Ron fumbled with his wand trying desperately to get it between his paws until he finally gave it up. "Ginny, please?"

       "What will I get if I do?"

       "To go the rest of the day without scratch marks all over your freckled face!" he growled.

       "Ok ok, sheesh! Calm down!" She held her wand up at him. "Reparo. Now leave me alone."

       "I have got to master it Ginny."

       She rolled her eyes. "Fine, but you have got to get the counter spell down."

       He decided the best thing to do would be to work on getting the counter spell down first since Ginny wasn't going to be patient for much longer.

**

       Ron spent the next two weeks working on the transfiguration. The real reason he didn't want to practice it with Hermione around was because he wanted to surprise her with his choice. It wasn't anything special, and he felt foolish running around secretly for something so small, but he wanted to see the look on her face when she saw. He wondered what she'd think when she saw him transform successfully into his animal of choice. Would she be amused? Irritated? By the end of the last week of November Hermione had gotten her eagle transformation down pat and was starting to worry about Ron. He hadn't transformed yet as far as she had seen, and she was reminding him daily of how little time he had left. She was sure he wouldn't be able to do it in the short time they had left. On that Friday she was getting her things in order and running over the checklist of assignments she wanted to complete before their trip when she heard a knock at the door.

       "Can I come in?"

       It was Ron. She turned and scowled at him. "You should be practicing your Animagus transformation Ronald. I can't believe you haven't even picked an animal yet. We've got two weeks left; you realize that, don't you? I'm really worried Ron."

       "It's ok," he said. "I figured it out. I picked my animal."

       "Really? What is it? That's great! Have you practiced it yet? You'd better hurry up or you'll never get it mastered in time!"

       "Hermione, it's ok. I—I've been practicing it for a couple of weeks now."

       "You have?" She was flabbergasted. "Why didn't you tell me? All this time I've been worried and going crazy thinking you'd never get it in time and you'd already been practicing!"

       "Whoa, calm down! I'm sorry!"

       "So?"

       "So what?"

       "So are you going to tell me what you picked?"

       He smiled. _Showtime_. "How about I show you?"

       Hermione crossed her arms and watched him expectantly. Nothing happened at first. He just looked at her watching him. "Well?"

       "Oh, right. Sorry." Suddenly his form began to shrink. Thick red fur spread all over his body, whiskers sprouted from his nose and his entire shape transformed. Hermione gasped in shock. Sitting in front of her was an Orange Tabby almost identical to her Crookshanks except its' eyes were deep brown. It walked over to her leg and began rubbing itself against her. She didn't move. Suddenly it stepped back and began to transform again. Ron stood in front of her with a look of shock on his face.

       "Er, sorry," he motioned towards her leg. "I didn't realize I was doing that. It's weird, you know. Like Sirius says, your emotions and stuff are less complex. Anyway, I'm a cat, in case it wasn't clear. Right. I'll be going now." Ears red, Ron turned around and walked back out the door of her dorm leaving her staring blankly at the spot where he had been standing.


	5. Neville's Crush and Heather's Surprise

Disclaimer: That's right: You guessed it. All the interesting characters and their powers belong to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. The typos in-between are mine and I will not relinquish claim to them. No matter what the men from the mad-house say. They're mine, I tell you, MINE!!!!

A/N: I wrote this chapter and posted it without even looking into Bulgarian culture, and then a couple of things were brought to my attention by some people who were kind enough to review. THANK YOU! I went back & looked at some things and it turned out they actually fit into Bulgarian culture! They would have been totally ridiculous in Britain or here in the US (like 15 yr olds engaged) but in the Bulgarian countryside average age of marriage is pretty young, so it all worked out. Anyways, on with the story. :)

*~* Neville's Crush and Heather's Surprise *~*

       Ron usually relished the afternoon before Christmas Break. Most years it was filled with visions of presents and free time spent with his two best friends—well his best friend and the girl who got under his skin like none had done before. This year, however, he felt nothing but dread as he made last minute checks of his trunk. He and Hermione were to take the Hogwarts Express that evening and they hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to Harry. They'd seen him in class but since classes ended he had seemed to have disappeared. Ron turned to take one last look at his bed and found that there was a cage with a rare, completely black owl sitting inside of it (A/N: Is there such a thing as an all black owl? I have no idea but pretend there is in this story :)). Beside the cage sat a note carefully scrawled by none other than the great Houdini himself. 

"Dear Ron:

       I know you're probably wondering where I am. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to say goodbye, but I don't think we should be saying goodbye. It's just like you going home for the holidays, right? You'll be back, I know it. And when you do come back, we'll finish this thing with Voldemort for good. The owl is on loan from Sirius and Dumbledore helped me enchant it. It doesn't talk or anything cool like that, but it can fly better than a Firebolt. Speaking of which, my broom's in my chest, take it with you. See you at the end of break. By the way, your Christmas present is sitting on top of the broom. Promise you won't open it until Christmas morning. Also, feed the owl good food or it'll start hooting loudly. Leave its cage open and by the window. Dumbledore says it's a really active owl and likes its freedom. Don't worry though. I didn't tell him it was for you or that you were going to Bulgaria. He thinks it's so that Sirius and I can communicate faster. Anyways, have a Happy Christmas and tell Hermione I say the same to her. I'll see you both back here at the start of the new term.

Not saying goodbye,

Harry.

P.S. I know you won't be needing the Marauders' map, but take the invisibility cloak, you know, just in case."

       Ron turned back towards Harry's chest and opened it. Inside he found the cloak folded up and placed next to the broomstick. On top of the broomstick sat an envelope addressed to "Ricky and Heather," the names Hermione and Ron had chosen for each other while they were "under cover." The fact that his name sounded very much like _Vicky_ didn't get passed Ron, and it had caused a rather loud row in the common room, which led to his picking a name for her that rhymed with Fluer. Hermione said he was being childish but agreed to keep the name if he kept Ricky. Ron smiled and put the "present" along with the cloak in his trunk, grabbed the broom and started to leave. He was stopped at the doorway by a loud "Hoot!" and he realized that he had almost forgotten the owl. Carrying everything down to the carriages felt like an impossible feat but eventually he descended the 7 floors and made it outside to where Hermione was waiting for him.

       "Do you have the money?"

       Startled, she turned around to see Ron still holding onto everything. "What's that," she pointed to the owl.

       "Harry put it on my bed. Said we were supposed to send this owl to him if anything went wrong."

       "I thought he said he was going to think of something faster to use."

       Ron shrugged. "It's enchanted or something. He said Dumbledore made it fly faster than a Firebolt. He left very specific instructions for taking care of it. You'd think it the prince of all owls or something. Do you have the money," he repeated.

       "Of course, my parents sent it last week. Oh! Here come the carriages."

       Ron's immense displeasure Neville joined them in their carriage ruling out any discussion of the plans until they were on the train. As soon as they found a compartment to themselves they began hurriedly running over the plan. Once they landed at the station they were going to wait with each other "for their parents." Once all of the students had left Hermione would head up to the ticketing booth and buy tickets for both of them while Ron would stand guard over their things. Once they were safely inside a compartment on the train Ron would use a charm to turn his hair dark brown and Hermione would enchant hers to turn blonde. Neither was particularly thrilled about it, but Harry had suggested they go incognito and they had to agree that it was a good idea. Ron had been wondering all week what it would be like to be the Ricky-The-Brunette-from-London. Just as Ron was about to tease Hermione about her choice of hair color the door to their compartment slid open to reveal a very red-faced Neville.

       "Malfoy came in and took my compartment. Told me if I knew what was good for me I'd find somewhere else. Do you guys mind if I join you?"

       "Uh, actually—"

       "Of course we wouldn't mind, Neville," Hermione said shooting a warning glance to Ron. "Come on in."

       The three sat discussing Christmas, Quidditch, presents, and their excitement to be seeing family again and Neville stayed on with them the whole ride back. Ron tried several attempts to get Neville to seek another compartment but the glares from Hermione finally convinced him it would be better to give up.

**

       "Look Neville! It's your grandmother!" Ron had never been so excited to see an elderly lady before in his life. Neville had decided that he also going to wait with them for their parents and was going on non-stop about his grandmother and their plans during break. Neville ran up to the older lady but left his things with Ron and Hermione. Ron raised his eyebrow in question to Hermione, but she just shrugged. A moment later Neville and Mrs. Longbottom walked over to the two but neither reached for the trunk.

       "Granny's agreed to wait with you guys for your parents!"

       Hermione turned and threw a panic stricken look to Ron.

       "Er, thank you Mrs. Longbottom, but that won't be necessary," Ron assured her. "They'll be here any second now. I'm sure you'll be wanting to get Neville home and get started on all those Christmas plans."

       "Oh it's ok," Neville said. "It wouldn't be right to leave Hermione here waiting alone."

       "But I'm not alone, Neville, Ron's with me. And I'm sure his mum will be more than happy to wait with me if my parent's haven't gotten here by then."

       "Yeah," Ron continued. "She won't be alone, don't worry."

       Ron thought he saw Neville glare at him for a moment, but the look vanished from his face as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, ok then. Well, Happy Christmas!"

       "Well, we're going to have to start a Hermione Granger Fan Club if you're not careful," Ron said as soon as Neville was out of earshot.

       "What is that supposed to mean," she snapped.

       "Seems like everyone's getting a crush on you all of the sudden."

       "What are you talking about?"  
       "First Vicky and now Neville. I wonder who will fall for you next."

       Hermione stood up promptly and threw the things she was holding at Ron. "I don't know what's gotten into you Ronald Weasley, but _I'm_ going to buy our tickets. I hope you use an aging charm by the time I get back because I don't want to spend hours with you on a train if you're going to act like that and bring _him_ up again!"

       With that she turned and walked through the barrier back onto the muggle train platform and went to buy the tickets. Ron sat there, ears red, fuming over the sudden turn of the tide.

**

       The ride to Bulgaria was a relatively quiet one. They changed into muggle clothes in the train's rest rooms and did the hair charms in the compartment. It took several tries before Ron found a shade of dark brown that fit his skin color. When Hermione was finally done she was unrecognizable. Not only did she charm her hair to turn blonde but she had also found a spell to make it sleeker and straighter than it usually was. Ron wondered why she had never used that spell at Hogwarts. She looked nice with calmer hair. Not that the big hair looked bad—it looked quite _nice_ actually but—why was he thinking like this? Ron shook his head and turned his attention to the window where an endless series of fields were sweeping by.

       "Once we get to the station," Hermione's words interrupted his thoughts, "We'll find our guide."

       "Our _guide_?"

       "Well, yes. You couldn't have thought we'd be flying all the way to Grad Sofiya on our own! How would we know the way? How would we know when we'd gone too far? It isn't as if the provinces and towns have neon lights in the sky marking them you know!"

       "I just thought that we'd, well, I guess I never actually _thought_ about it."

       "Well, I've arranged for someone to lead us to the wizard town at the foot of the mountain. We'll stay there for the night and set out the next day to find the cave. Once we have the feather, we can go home."

       "The sooner the better," Ron muttered. He had a bad feeling about this. "How can you be sure you can trust this, er, guide?"

       "Ron, stop worrying. It will be fine. Just trust me."

       Ron played nervously with the buttons on his muggle shirt and looked out the window. _You know, you have two weeks alone with her,_ he thought.

_       **What??!??!?? Where did that come from? We're here for the feather. Once we get the feather, we're going home, I'm getting my red hair back and I'm forgetting Bulgaria ever existed.**_

       He looked over to where Hermione sat. She had turned sideways on the seat so that her back was against the wall so she could bring her feet up onto the seat. Nestled in her lap sat a large book and she was reading. 

_       **I can't believe she's reading. She's on holiday for heaven's sake!**_

_       Blonde hair agrees with her._

_       **What??!??!??**_

_       It's not as nice as her brown hair of course. It's nice in a different way. She looks…different. Girly._

       Ron nearly fell off his seat.

_       **Ok, look. I don't know where you're coming from, but get OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!**_

_       Sorry! I was just saying—_

_       **OUT!!!**_

_       Ok, ok._

       "Are you all right?"

       Ron shot his head up and looked at a very blonde and very concerned looking Hermione. "I'm fine, thanks. I just, almost fell asleep there for a second." He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his brown hair.

       "I like your hair that color," she said.   

       _She likes my hair!_

_       **Shut up you prat! It's not even **_**my_ hair remember?_**__

_       Oh, right._

       "Ron?"

       "Oh, right. Thank you. Yours looks nice too. Not that it doesn't always look nice, but you know, it looks nice like that too." **_Where did _that_ come from?????_** "I liked it better when it was all bushy." He hoped this corrected his momentary lapse of judgment but one look at her hurt and angry expression assured him that he had, indeed, shoved the foot much farther into his mouth. 

       _Brilliant. Way to go Casanova. _

_       **Who asked you anyways?**_

       "'All bushy?'"

       "Wait, that's not what I meant."

       "Well then what _did_ you mean?"

       "I just meant…" **_How do I say this?_**__

_       Tell her she's pretty!_

**_       Have you gone batty?_**__

_       Tell her she's pretty!_

_       **If you don't shut up right now—**_

       Tell her she's pretty! 

_       **I'm warning you!**_

       Tell her she's pretty! 

_       **That's it!**_

       "You're pretty." **_What??!??!??_**

       Is that how you always punish? 'Cuz if so, I may do that more often. 

_       **Why you little—!**_

       "Er, what I meant to say was that I like your hair the way it normally is. I think it, you know, suits you." _See? Now that was so hard was it?_

       "Thank you," she said. She quickly stuck her head back into the large book she was holding and resumed her heading. If Ron had looked closely he would have seen a slight blush on her cheeks and that she had been reading the same page for the last hour, but he was too deep in his own thoughts to notice.

**

       Hermione looked around, nervously biting her lip. They had been waiting at the platform for nearly a quarter of an hour and their "guide" had still not shown up.

       "Hermione—"

       "Heather," she corrected.

       "Right. Heather, why are we still here?"

       "Because we're waiting for—"

       "Hermy-own-ninny!"

       _Oh. My. God._

_       **Oh. My. God.**_

       "Viktor! Hello!"

       A tall, lanky man with dark hair, a crooked nose, and sunken eyes approached them. "Ver you vaitink for long?"

       "No, we just got here," she lied.

       Once he reached them he threw his arms around her and gave her a big hug.

       "I have been missink you. I almost did not recognize you. Vhat is in your hair?"

       "Oh, do you like it? I guess I was looking for a little variety." Hermione threw a nervous glance at Ron.

       Ron didn't move. His face was paler than it had ever been and she was afraid he would throw a tantrum right there in the middle of the train station.

       Viktor, noticing her gaze, turned to Ron as well. "Hello," he greeted. "My name is Viktor, and you are?" He held out a massively large hand with long crooked fingers to Ron.

       "Uh, Viktor, that's R—"

       "Ricky," Ron interrupted her. He stood up and took Viktor's hand. He had grown over the past year and was taller and broader than he was when he had first met Viktor. The two now stood head-to-head. Ron was sure that Viktor didn't recognize him, especially with his newly brown hair. "Ricky Weatherby." He shook Viktor's hand hard, determined to leave an impression in his fist forever.

       "Vell, it is very nice meetink you. A friend of Hermy-own-ninny is alvays velcome." He withdrew his hand and grabbed Hermione's trunk. "Let us go to my home for now. I think you are right Hermy-own-ninny. It is a good idea to vait until midnight before ve fly."

       Ron looked down at his watch and lifted an eyebrow. "Uh, Viktor, it's 10 pm. Wouldn't it be better to just find a pub or restaurant somewhere and just wait until midnight?"

       "Uh, don't you think Hermy-own-ninny is too young to be in pub?" 

       "Ah, yes, I forgot about our young little Hermione," Ron laughed and the furious expression on her face. "Well, how about a nice restaurant then?"

       "What was that all abut, _Ricky_," Hermione whispered as Viktor lead them to a nearby restaurant.

       "You said we should disguise ourselves. The fewer people who know who we are the better," he shrugged.

       Ron spent the entire two hours at the restaurant listening to Viktor's rant about the current state of international Quidditch and his hopes to be traded to the British team. For the first time in his life, he found a conversation about Quidditch utterly shallow and mind numbingly boring. He couldn't understand how Hermione could like someone as mindless, egotistical and self-centered as—

       "Ricky," Viktor's voice shook Ron back to his senses. "I vas askink if you vere ready to go?"

       "Oh, right. Ready as I'll ever be." Ron saw Viktor reach into his pocket to get some money to pay the bill and stopped him. "Allow me," he said puffing out his chest. He reached down into his pocket only to realize he didn't have a single sickle on him. "Hermione, may I have my pouch please?"

       "What pouch?"

       "The one with all the money in it," he said looking into her eyes with meaning.

       "Er right. Here," she pulled out the pouch with Harry's money and handed it over to Ron. She had to bite her tongue from laughing when she saw that he was pulling out galleons to set on the table. "This is a muggle restaurant," she whispered.

       "So?"

       "So they don't take galleons!"

       "Oh, right. Of course. I knew that, I was simply moving the galleons out of my way so that I could get to the muggle money in here."

       He reached down and pulled out some British notes and laid them down on the table triumphantly. This time she let herself laugh outright. "R-Ricky we're in Bulgaria. They don't take British money here."

       "Oh, of course." His ears were so hot he were afraid they were going t be charred by the time they got out of the restaurant. "Em, Viktor, listen, could you spot me enough to cover this?"

       "Vhat? _Spot?_"

       "_Loan_," Ron explained, exasperated. "Can I borrow some money," he said raising his voice as though he thought if he spoke louder the "foreigner" would understand his words better.

       "Oh, of course." Viktor held out a rather large wad of money and helped Ron count out the appropriate amount. When Ron had finally placed the money on the table the three of them walked out into the open air.

       "Vell, have you brought brooms?"

       "Of course we have," Ron said huffily. He opened his trunk and pulled out the Firebolt Harry had loaned him. He stood up proudly brandishing the expensive broom.

       "Er, Ricky," Hermione said.

       "Yes?"

       "What about me?"

       "You? Oh! You!" He turned back to his trunk and began digging for his Shooting Star. When he didn't find it underneath the cloak, he emptied out the entire contents of his trunk onto the floor. "I don't understand it," he said as he pulled out article after article. "I specifically remember putting it in here…well, I mean I _think_ I remember it…" Suddenly he paled when he realized that the broom he remembered putting in his trunk as the one he was holding in his arm. He looked down at the Firebolt. "I—I think I forgot it," he said quietly. _Brilliant. Bloody brilliant!_

       "Oh, I only brought vone," he said holding up a beautiful broom made of wood that looked so vibrant it was as if it were still connected to it's roots. A glint in the light caught Ron's eye and he saw tiny writing at the end of the broom that read "Nimbus 2002." _Great,_ he thought. _I can't win._ "All right, vell, Hermy-own-ninny, you vill ride vith me. I vill take as much of your tinks as I can, and da rest Ricky, you vill be so kind as to take, no?"

       "Er, right, of course." Ron looked at Hermione. She looked a little anxious and blushed slightly.

       "Oh. Well, all right. I supposed it's the only way." She threw a look to Ron that looked almost—what was it? Apologetic? No. She seemed to be searching for something. Permission? Was she asking permission? _Why should I care?_ He thought. _It's not like she's my girlfriend. She's _his_ girlfriend. She can ride with her boyfriend if she wants._ Ron avoided looking at her while they walked around the buildings to a secluded alley where they loaded the broomsticks and kicked off the ground. Viktor and Hermione rode in front and Ron followed them. It was torture watching Viktor's arms around Hermione.

       _He shouldn't be riding like that with her._

_       **And why not? She has every right to ride however she wants with whoever she wants.**_

_       She has not!_

**_       And what are you going to do about it? Go over there and sweep her off her broom?_**__

_       If I have to—yes!_

**_       Have you lost your mind?_**__

_       Ugh! She shouldn't be riding like that with him! She should be riding with me!_

_       **Oh really?**_

_       Yes! _I'm_ the one who taught her how to get comfortable with riding in the first place! Where was _he_ when his girlfriend was in need of riding lessons?_

**_       In Bulgaria._**

_       Exactly! Thousands of miles away in Bulgaria._

**_       Exactly. Thousands of miles away, in Bulgaria, practicing Quidditch with the second best team in the Wizarding world on a broom faster and better than the one you've got._**__

_       Well you don't have to rub it in!_

       By the time they arrived at Mount Vitosha Ron's mood had gotten even worse. He strode silently into the Inn behind Viktor and Hermione and stood several feet away as Viktor spoke with the wizard behind the counter in Bulgarian (A/N: Guess what? I did some research and the language is really called Bulgarian! Yay! I got something right!). He came back looking a little disgruntled and walked over to Ron. 

       "He says it vill cost two galleons a night for each room."

       Hermione smiled and thanked Viktor and pulled Ron aside. "Ron, we can't afford that! We can't afford four galleons a night."

       "We can't?"

       "No!"

       "Haven't we got enough for that?"

       "Well, what if we need to buy something else? We'll have no money left over for food or supplies or anything."

       "You're assuming we'll be here for the whole two weeks," he reminded.

       "_You're_ assuming we won't. You have no idea how long it'll take us to find the cave. We may not find it for a week," her voice got quieter and she leaned in even closer to him. "We may not even find it at all."

       "Well what do you propose we do?"

       She looked at him with a blank expression on her face. "Well, I should think it's perfectly clear."

       "It is?"

       "We have to share a room."

       "You're joking."

       "Do you have a better idea?"

       "Fine, but we get two beds!"

       For the second time that night she looked at him as if she were dealing with a five-year-old child. "Of course we will. Now, give me the pouch"

       "What pouch?"

       "_Your pouch '_the one with all the money in it'," she reminded him.

       "Oh," his ears turned pink and he reached into his pocket sheepishly for the pouch. "Here."

       As she and Viktor went back to the desk to sort things out Ron took a moment to look around the Inn. It was made entirely of wood with several fireplaces burning with emerald green fires and flowerpots on the mantles above them. _Floo Powder,_ he thought. _Wish I'd thought of that before we got good old Vicky to fly us out here._ The place was decorated modestly with several rugs patterned in white, black, red, and green. He found them utterly tacky but was sure Bulgarians would find British decorations equally displeasing.

       "Vell," a gruff voice said from behind him. Ron noted a sudden tone of hostility in Viktor's voice. "This is vere I leave you." He turned to Hermione and gave her a hug. If he weren't already leaving Ron would have grabbed him by the shoulders and thrown him out of the Inn. He released her and didn't even stop to shake Ron's hand as he passed by him. "Ricky," he nodded as he passed Ron by.

       "Thank you Viktor," Hermione called out to him, and Ron noticed that he didn't bother to turn and acknowledge her. "Good bye!"

       "Er, right. Goodbye," Ron said.

       Viktor walked over to one of the emerald fires, took a pinch of glittering powder from the flowerpot and threw it in. The fire roared higher and Viktor stepped in. Within a matter of moments he was gone.

       "What was that all about," Ron said turning to Hermione who looked a bit flustered.

       "I'll tell you abut it when we get upstairs, Honey," she said as she took his hand.

       Shocked, Ron followed her up the stairs to the third floor and down a corridor. "Our things have already been brought up for us, Dear, isn't that lovely?" Said as she fumbled with the key. When she finally got the door to open she swung it open wildly, threw him and slammed the door behind her.

       "What on earth is going on here," Ron demanded.

       "They're on to us?"

       "What?!?"

       "When we went to get the room, the man behind the counter looked at the back of your head and said, 'Ah, Harry Potter!'" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Yeah," she continued. "So I had to say something." She suddenly found the floor deeply interesting "I got panicked, you know." 

       "Hermione," he said hesitantly, "What did you do?"

       "I said 'Oh, no, that's my fiancé, Ricky Weatherby.' I think it upset Viktor because he turned very red and said he had to go." (A/N: I know they're only 15 in this, but average age for marriage in Bulgaria is 18-25 so it wouldn't be TOO out of the ordinary to see such a young couple, especially in the countryside where age-of-marriage tends to be earlier. Plus, Ron's so tall Viktor thought he was older than Hermione earlier remember?…so it's not too far off is it? Oh just pretend it works!)

       If it were possible for Ron to fall over and die from shock he would have done it. And then he would have promptly stood up, and fallen over a second time. And he would have continued to do so until someone stopped him by putting him out of his misery with an Avada Kedavra curse. _She said we're engaged?!? _

_       **Don't get any bright ideas there, Loverboy. She was covering for us.**_

       The black owl that Harry had given him seemed to be thinking the same thing because suddenly he began hooting like mad in his cage.

       "Fiancé?" was all he could stammer.

       "Well I had to say something! Someone knew that someone having something to do with Harry Potter would be here! How could they have known? What is going on here, Ron!?"

       "Hoot! Hoot!"

       But Ron's attention had been diverted. He was staring out at the middle of the room. There, against the center of the back wall, between a table and a rug sat one, massive bed. Not two twins, but one Queen sized bed—the kind fiancés use. "Um, Hermione, don't you think you're taking this whole fiancé thing too far?"

       "Ron what are you _talking_ about?" she spun around to see what he was looking at and gasped. "I—I said _two_ beds! I know I did!"

       "Um, right, maybe I should go down there and straighten this up."

       "No, it's ok. It would be better for you to lie low. If they see you alone others may think that you're Harry and it'll just bring us trouble. I'll go talk to the manager," and with that she left the room.

       "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" Ron turned back to the owl sitting on the trunks the hotel had magicked up for them.

       "They were probably brought up by House-Elfs!" He put his finger over his mouth in a gesture to indicate secrecy, "Shh! Don't tell Hermione. She'll have a fit!"

       "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!"

       "You're telling me!" Ron sat on the bed beside the trunk and opened the cage. The great owl flew out of it immediately and began circling the room. When it heard Hermione fumbling with the keys again it flew back into it's cage and sat quietly, as if it were awaiting the move. "Smart owl," Ron mumbled as he rose and walked over to the door. "Who is it," he asked in a high-pitched singsong voice.

       "Her—Heather."

       "We don't know any Heathers," he replied still speaking in falsetto.

       "For goodness sakes, Ricky, let me in!" she sounded furious.

       Ron opened the door and she came in and closed it behind her. "We're not moving, are we?" he asked, looking at the furious expression on her face. If there was one thing that irritated Hermione, it was not being able to figure out a solution to a situation. Well, that and him mentioning _Vicky_.

       "No. He said he didn't have any more double beds left, but judging by the smile on his face I think he was lying."

       "Hermione, why would he lie to you?"

       "I don't know. To infuriate me? To get me alone with the famous Harry Potter!"

       "I'm not Harry Potter, I'm Ricky Weatherby, remember?"

       "Oh shut up!"

       "So what are we going to do? Are they going to bring up any cots?"

       "Apparently they don't have any of _those_ either. He looked at me like I'd gone half-mad when I asked for one, but he did say he'd send some blankets up," she winced, "with a house-elf."

       Ron smiled, "so _that's_ what's got you all upset!"

       "Can it," she said. "Now, help me unpack all this stuff." With that she marched over to the trunks sitting beside the bed, leaving Ron still standing in the doorway watching her with a grin on his face.


	6. Their First Night

Disclaimer: I don't own the puppets, just the strings.

A/N: This one's a bit short but I thought the first night deserved a chapter all its own. Enjoy.

*~* Their First Night *~*

       If there was one thing Ron Weasley couldn't understand, it was women. He didn't understand the ways of their hearts, he couldn't fathom why they were so touchy, and for the life of him he could not figure out what it was that took them so long in the rest room. Hermione had been in there for the last half hour doing God-knows-what and all Ron wanted to do was brush his teeth so that he could go to bed.

       He thought back to the fight they had just had. They were unpacking and she was huffing and sighing loudly; he was sure it was a sign for him to ask her what was wrong.

*~*flashback*~*

       He watched as she threw the clothes into the drawer without even bothering to keep them folded.

       "Of all the Inns in this town…"

       "Hermione, what's wrong?"

       "Well, you should have seen the way he smirked when I asked him why he didn't give us a double!"

       "Well, you _did_ tell him we were engaged!"

       "Ugh!" She huffed, "Men!"

       "What? What did I do?"

       She didn't say anything, but turned to glare at him in the way she always did when he insulted her.

       "Hermione why are you so upset?"

       "The way he put me on the spot like that! And in front of Viktor!"

       "Oh, is _that_ what this is about?"

       "Well, you would be angry too, if you were forced to tell a hotel manager that you were engaged to me and spending the night alone in a hotel room with me in front of Fleur!"

       "Well, Hermione, if it upsets you that much why don't you go find your precious _Vicky_ and explain to him that I've got nothing on him and that you still love him? Why are you taking it out on me?" He was furious now.

       "What are you talking about?"

       "You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

       "No, I don't," she said crossing her arms over her chest and turning to look at him now. "Explain it to me."

       "Well, it's obvious you're upset because he broke up with you and you're blaming me for it. It's not my fault you that couldn't think of anything better to say! Leave me alone about it, all I want to do is go to sleep."

       Her eyes narrowed. "Is that so?"

       "Yeah!"

       "Fine," she screamed as she reached into her trunk and withdrew her sleeping robes and her wand. He thought for sure she was going to hex him all the way back to Hogwarts but she walked right passed him and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

       "What are you doing?"

       "Getting ready for bed! I hope the blankets the elf brought up are comfortable," she said, her tone cold as ice.

*~*end flashback*~*

       "I don't see why she _had_ to go first," he said looking at the owl. "I would have been done in a minute and she could have taken all bloody night if she wanted."

       "I heard that Ron," came a voice from the bathroom.

       Ron rolled his eyes and opened its cage. "You've probably got cabin fever already, stuck in that cage all night."

       "Hoot!"

       "Are you hungry?"

       "Hoot!"

       "Right. Hermione," he called out to the rest room as he stood up. "I'm going to get something for the owl. I think it's hungry. Where's the pouch?"

       "What? _Your_ pouch? The one with all _your _money? You should keep better tabs on it, you know _Ricky_."

       He felt as though he could kill her. "Never mind," he called. "I'll find it." He went to her trunk and looked at the jacket she had thrown on top of it. It was the muggle jacket she had been wearing that night. He reached into one of its pockets and felt his fingers wrap around a bulging sack. _Bingo_, he thought.

       The tables at the Inn were now completely deserted. It was nearly daybreak and Ron was utterly exhausted from the flight over and the series of events that followed it.

       "Ah, Mr. Weatherby," a voice said behind him. "I hope you and your vife find everythink to your likink."

       **_Wife?!? Slow down there, turbo! An hour ago she was riding a broomstick with Vicky, a half hour ago she was my fiancée and now she's my wife? I don't know how you guys do things here in Bulgaria, but…_**

       "Uh, listen, she's not my wife."

       "Not yet," It was the manager that had given them the one bed. "Ah, I remember vhen I vas still courtink Helga. She vas fiery, that one. Alvays fighting vith me about somthink." His eyes twinkled as he spoke. 

       _This guy doesn't seem all that bad._ "You don't know the half of it," Ron smirked.

       "Ah, your Heather, she is like this too?"

       "Let's just say I've had my fair share of burns," Ron replied.

       "Come, let us drink."

       **_Sweet!_**__

_       Uh, Ron?_

_       **What?**_

_       You're not as old as this guy seems to think you are._

_       **So?**_

_       You're not old enough to be drinking. Don't even think about it! You now Hermione would kill you. Besides you need to get some sleep tonight. You're not here on Vacation you know._

_       **Don't remind me.**_

       "I'll just have some pumpkin juice, if you don't mind."

       They sat at a table at the end of the dinning room and a robust woman wearing a white and green apron approached. The manager spoke to her in Bulgarian and she went back into the kitchen.

       "So, vhy are you down here and not up there?"

       "Er, actually I just came down to get some feed for my owl. He's very particular you know."

       "Ah, I see." He raised an eyebrow. "I vill ask Velma to bring some feed as vell then for you. But that is not vhy you agreed to have a drink vith me instead of heading back upstairs, to your lady friend."

       Ron felt his ears turn instantly red and cleared his throat. "Do you really not have anymore doubles?"

       "Does it matter?"

       "Yes," Ron said, looking up at him. "It does."

       "Vell, unfortunately the last one was rented out in the afternoon, so yes. Ve really have no more doubles."

       Ron returned his attention to the scratches and nicks on the table. Velma returned with their drinks and the manager said something to her and again she went back into the kitchen.

       "She vill be back vith feed for your owl," he said. "Vell, I had better be getting back to the desk. Dawn is usually our busiest time and I had better be prepared." He slapped Ron on the shoulder as he walked around the table. "You know," he paused, "sometimes fighting is the only vay they can show how they _really_ feel." He walked off leaving Ron sitting at the table with a glass full of pumpkin juice and a head brimming with questions.

**

       Hermione was already asleep in the bed by the time Ron made it back up to their room. Several blankets had been haphazardly thrown on the floor beside the bed but she had kept both pillows for herself. 

       "Guess she's still mad at me," he said quietly as he opened the owl's cage. He took some feed out of the bag he had bought downstairs and fed it to the owl. "I'll never understand her," he wasn't angry or frustrated. Instead his words seemed to radiate the helplessness he felt when they fought over something he couldn't control. When the owl had had its fill of feed, he turned back to his blankets. Hermione was sitting up in her bed looking at him. He was so spooked he almost knocked over the owl's cage. "I, I thought you were asleep," he stammered.

       "I know." She spoke softly and looked down at her hands. He realized she had magicked her hair back to its natural color and density. It was even more puffy than normal from laying down on it. Rather than looking ragged, it made her look more vibrant—wild somehow.

       **_Great. She hates me, and all I can think about is how she looks "vibrant"?_**

       They stayed like that for a long time; she sitting upright on her bed, and him standing beside the owl cage, neither knowing what to say. Finally Ron crossed the room to his blankets. He laid down on the large Bulgarian rug, pulled his blanket on top of him and used his arm as a pillow.

       Hermione stared at him wide eyed. "You're just going to sleep on the rug like that?"

       "Well, yeah. Unless you think I should sleep on the wood."

       "Ron, you've got two blankets."

       "I know."

       She rolled her eyes and climbed out of bed. Her sleeping robes were soft shade of blue and simple. He thought they suited her quite nicely. "Here," she said. She took one of the blankets and laid it out flat on the ground for him to lay down on. Then she crossed back to the bed and took one of the pillows. She plopped it down on one end of the blanket and looked at him. "Now you have a bed."

       "Thanks." There was no hint of the usual Weasley sarcasm in his voice as he looked at her.

       "You're welcome, Ron." She looked at back at him, tilting her head slightly to compensate for the height difference. They looked at each other for a moment until she broke the gaze and climbed back into bed. "Good night," she muttered, as she got comfortable.

       "Good night, Heather."


	7. Tia

Disclaimer: I don't own the puppets, just a few very colorful strings.

A/N: I had fun writing this one. I hope you guys enjoy it too. The snogging is only one more chapter away! *woohoo!!!*

*~* Tia *~*

       Exhausted though he was from staying up so late, Ron had an incredibly difficult getting to sleep that morning. He was trying desperately to understand the sudden erratic shifts in Hermione's behavior, but he was trying equally hard to push the thought from his head. The result was neither effort being very successful and he was left wrestling with very vague and half-understood questions until it was light out. The last thought to be consciously entertained was the observation that Hermione looked rather nice all bushy-haired and baggy eyed. Usually a reprimand was quick to follow a thought like that, but for once Ron allowed himself to let the pleasantness of the thought consume him and send him off to a land where no consequences were rendered, and there was no such thing as "unrequited love."

**

       Harry Potter stood staring out the window at the morning air. His plan had seemed so brilliant, so very noble in theory. He was sure he was so doing the right thing in executing it, but now…there were some things friends weren't meant to intrude upon. Sometimes, privacy was more important than a false sense of security. He could still execute his plan, but had to be altered. This was simply not right. With one last look at his friends, he spread his wings and flew out the window in search of a habitable nest in a foreign landscape.

**

       Ron Weasley didn't awake until the wee hours of the afternoon. He had slept through the complimentary breakfast and was trying his best to sleep through lunch as well. When she could stand it no longer, Hermione finally decided that she had to wake him. She knelt down beside him and gently shook his shoulder with her hand.

       "Ron? Ron, wake up." She heard him make a gruff noise that sounded suspiciously like an expletive and watched as he rolled over. He was now laying with his back to her in a semi fetal position. She decided to try again. "Ron, Ron get up! Get up Ron!"

       He grabbed her wrist and she assumed it was an assent to rise. She began to stand when suddenly she felt a sharp tug on her arm. He pulled her down to the ground beside him catching her before she hit the floor. _Wow, he's strong,_ she thought. Then he pulled her very close, with his arms wrapped around her waist. _Oh boy._ She saw a shadow of the mischievous grin she knew so well flicker across his lips. She was laying in a very awkward, though not completely unpleasant situation now. She was laying on her back and he was on his side holding onto her. He was almost above her. Her legs however were strewn onto of and across his hips. She pulled her legs down to the ground and prepared to attempt to stand get up again when suddenly he wrapped leg over hers pulling her ever closer to him. His head now nuzzled her neck and she could feel his light breath and the rise and fall of his chest against her shoulder. She was torn. His arms around her, like this just felt right, and yet she was afraid if she didn't move quickly he would awaken and think she had crawled in and snuggled up with him of her own accord, and would never believe that he had pulled her down against her will. Suddenly he moved. She froze. She thought he was going to wake up and start yelling—or worse, laughing—at her. After a moment and a bit of shifting though, he drifted back into his slumber and she was able to pry herself out of his grip and stand up. Frazzled, she decided the best thing to do would be to get some tea and let him wake up on his own.

**  
  


       A grin broke out on Ron Weasley's face when he heard the door to his hotel room close. Instantly he opened his eyes and gripped his pillow, holding it close remembering the feel of her body. With a sigh he sat up and stared down at the place where she had laid beside him.

       "Do you think she'll ever let me do that when she thinks I'm awake," he asked looking up at the cage. It was empty. _Odd,_ he thought. _Harry _did_ say that it liked its freedom._ Ron shrugged and went got up from his bed.

       Hermione was sitting at the very same table in the dinning room he had occupied the night before. In fact, she was sitting in _his seat_. Across from her, sitting where the hotel manager sat was a rather pleasant looking plump lady wearing the same white and green apron he had seen Velma wearing the day before. They seemed to be very deep in conversation and didn't take notice of him until he was just within earshot.

       "Vell, you know how men are. Just give it time, my dear."

       _What is this? The Love Doctor Hotel?_

       **_Probably giving her advice on Krum, stupid git._**__

_       Probably. Stupid git._

_       **Hey!**_

_       What?_

       We finally agreed on something! 

****_What? You want a cookie or something?_****

**_       Cute._**

       He was too enveloped in his own thoughts to realize that the ladies had stopped talking and were both looking up at him expectantly. Finally, he came to and looked at them. He noticed that Hermione had enchanted her hair to turn blonde and sleek again. He smiled inwardly as he envisioned her with the wild and scraggly hair from last night. Or was it this morning? Whenever it was, it was etched in his memory for eternity. That and the feeling of her next to him—

       "What!"

       "What?" Ron snapped out of his reverie to find Hermione staring at him like he had a Bogart over his shoulder and the lady with the apron gone.

       "You were staring at me like I was a ham-and-egg sandwich or something."

       _Oh God, is that how I look at food?_

_       **Rather frightening, isn't it?**_

_       Kind of pathetic actually._

_       **Right. That too.**_

       "Sorry," he said as he took the seat left vacant by the Bulgarian lady. "I was just trying to decide what to order for breakfast."

       "Ron, it's half passed two."

       "Wow, I haven't slept in that late since the summer!"

       "Why am I not surprised?"

       "Who was that lady anyways?"

       "Oh, her name is Helga. I think her husband owns this place."

       If he'd been eating when she said this he would have choked. "That was Helga?"

       "You've heard of her?"

       "I, well I kind of talked to her husband last night," he felt his cheeks blush a little and knew that his ears were definitely starting to heat up.

       "You did," she asked eyes growing wide.

       "Yeah."

       "She said that he was incredibly handsome and charming," she said, leaning in slightly. "He must be nothing like the horrible night manager that stuck us with the room. Did you ask him about a double?"

       "Yes."

       "And he didn't give us one?"

       "No," he said looking at her with an amused expression in his eyes. "He said that as he'd already told _you_, he had rented the last double earlier that day."

       A look of utter distaste overcame her face as realization dawned on her. "That horrible man? 'Handsome and charming?' Eak! What was she thinking?"

       "Hermione, as much as I'd love to sit here contemplating the horrible taste of a certain apron-wearing hotel-owner, I'm positively starving. I'm going to go order something. Do you want anything?"

       "Ron, this is a sit down place. The waitress will come to us."

       "I'm too hungry to wait for that," he said, rising. "You want anything or not?"

       "I've already ordered, thanks."

       He nodded and turned to the kitchen. When he had had his fill of ham-and-egg sandwiches (a suggestion he was sure to thank Hermione for) he turned to Hermione with eyes full of excitement. "So," he said, breaking the comfortable silence in which they had been eating. "Are we going to go in search of this Cave of Wonder now?"

       "It's Cave of _Virtue_ and no. Not today. It's too late and it's winter. We've only got two hours before sunset and that's hardly time enough to go traipsing about the countryside in search of hidden caves. No," she said turning her head and examining the guests and employees of the small Inn. "I was thinking maybe we'd talk to some people today. You know, get a little information. These people live practically on top of the Cave. There's got to be legends and folklores here that for some reason or another never made it into the books."

       They decided to make use of what little daylight they had left and start with a walk around the village. The evening could be spent inside the Inn talking to whomever was willing to share by the firelight under the guise of two curious lovers who wanted to take in all they could of the "Bulgarian Culture and History." The Inn was on the outskirts of the rural town at base of the mountain. They headed towards the buildings and shops stopping people along the way to ask them about the history of the town and the magical folklore. The legend of the Simurgh was so spectacular that even many Wizards thought it was no more than a fairy tale Witches used to lull their imps to sleep with. Ron and Hermione were surprised to see how many of their Bulgarian counterparts laughed when asked about the legend. They were even more surprised to find how little anyone knew—or chose to share—about the Cave. 

       "You know," Ron said looking at Hermione as they made their way back to the Inn. "I don't think anyone knows anything about it."

       "I don't think so. I mean it makes no sense. It's such a spectacular legend. You'd think that they'd be proud to have such an important folklore as a part of their culture. There's something more to this." She stopped when she saw a woman speaking to a Wizard shopkeeper with three small children playing what looked like a very violent game of fake duels around her skirts. "I'll be right back," she told Ron and crossed over to the lady. 

       "I'll have four toads legs," she said. "And if you have any," she leaned in closer and said in a quiet tone, "some aconite as vell please."

       "Yes," Hermione said stepping up, "I'd like some wolfsbane as well, if you're going to get some out." (A/N: Hermione isn't being rude—wolfsbane and aconite are the same thing. She was just trying to find a way to enter their conversation. Also, ignore the fact that these people just *happen* to be speaking in English even though they're in their native land. I'm just too lazy to think up an elaborate and original explanation. Hey, it's late—what do you want from me? :)).

       The woman looked at her, shocked by her boldness. "You're not from around here, are you," she asked, her eyes narrowing.

       "Er, no, I'm not. Why?"

       The woman looked at her suspiciously. "Vell, you should know that Volfsbane is illegal here."

       "But you just ordered some."

       "I most certainly did not," the woman said raising her voice so she could be heard denying the accusation clearly.

       "Yes, you did," Hermione said, trying desperately to keep the conversation from barreling out of control. "You just asked for some aconite."

       "No! I asked for adasonine!" When she was sure that everyone on the street had heard and understood her clearly, she turned to Hermione lowering her voice. "You vould do vell to be more careful in the future, my dear," her voice was much kinder than it had been a moment ago.

       "Um, Miss?"

       "Darvi," the woman said.

       "Uh, right. Miss Darvi,"

       "No, no miss. Just Darvi."

       "Oh, I'm sorry. Darvi, why is—well you know—why is it illegal?"

       "Because it vas vonce used for a potion to conjure an evil so horrible that…" her voice trailed off. She was staring at Ron who was watching the both of them curiously. "Who is that?"  
       "That? Oh, that's my—er—Fiancé, Ricky."

       "Ah. Vell, aconite vas vonce used to awaken a sleeping monster in the mountains. The person vas trying to seek out its cave—"

       "Cave? The Cave of Virtue?" Hermione was almost shouting she was so excited.

       The woman paled and stared at her as though Hermione had just sworn her loyalty to the Dark Lord openly. Without another word she grabbed her children and walked away, leaving her herbs to be pick up on another day. Stunned, Hermione turned and went back to Ron.

       "What happened," he asked.

       "That was the strangest conversation I have ever experienced. Ron, the lady looked at me as though I were a Death Eater when I asked about the Cave of Virtue!"

       "What? Why?  
       "I have no idea, but there is definitely more to this than meets the eye." The sound of a shout from behind them jolted them out of their discussion and Hermione realized that the apothecary was waiting for her to collect her Wolfsbane. "Give me the pouch," she said to Ron suddenly.

       "What? Why?"  
       "I asked for some Wolfsbane, you know, so I looked like I had a reason to go over there. Anyway, he's waiting for me to pay for it," she motioned back to the man standing behind the counter.

       Ron handed her the pouch and watched as she walked back to the shop keeper and began having a rather heated argument with him.

       "Ron?" A small voice from behind him sent him flying several feet. He turned around to see a small girl with black pigtails and deep brown eyes looking up at him. It was one of the girls that was playing the dueling game around the lady's skirt.

       "How—how did you know my name?"

       "She told me," she said pointing at Hermione.

       "She _told_ you my name?"

       The girl looked at the ground bashfully and kicked the dirt with her food. "Vell," she said. "She didn't really _tell_ me. She said it to you."

       "Oh," Ron said understanding. "So you found our little secret huh?"

       The girl looked back up at him questioningly. "Listen," he said as he knelt down to her height. "My name is Ron, but we told everyone that it's Ricky. It's like a game, see?" The little girl's face lit up. "Would you like to play?" She nodded her head excitedly. "Ok, then. So whenever other people are around, you have to call me Ricky, ok? If anyone finds out my real game, we lose the game."

       "Ok," she said. Then she did something that shocked Ron. She put her hands up to his face and began smushing his skin, trying to push his nose from side to side and pulling his head down so she could look deep into his eyes. "You don't look like a liar," she said suddenly.

       Ron looked at her stunned. Then he did the only thing that made sense. He laughed, put his hands up to her face and repeated the process. Finally, looking quite satisfied he returned the favor. "Neither do you. So it must be a game."

       This seemed to be all the bonding she needed because she began giggling and slipped her tiny hand in Ron's hand.

       "Who's this," a female voice came from behind Ron. He stood, still holding the little girl's hand and looked at a very amused Hermione.

       "Um, I'm not really sure." Ron turned to the girl, "What's your name?"

       "Kristia. You can call me Tia."

       "Well, it's nice to meet you Kristia," Hermione said.

       "What's her name," Tia asked looking at Ron.

       "Er," Ron threw a nervous glance at Hermione and then decided honesty was the best policy with this little one. "Hermione."

       Ron heard Hermione take a sharp breath and looked over to find very confused look on her face.

       "Is that your _real_ name," Tia asked looking right at her. "Or, is it your game name?"

       "My 'game' name?" Hermione was thoroughly confused.

       "Er, you know, honey. Like _my_ 'game' name Ricky. She wants to know what your game name is." He waited and watched Hermione, but when it became obvious she wasn't quite clear what he meant, he turned back to Tia and said "Heather. That's her 'game' name."

       "Oh," the little girl said cheerfully. "Ok. Are ve going to eat now?"

       "Um, dear," Hermione said kneeling down to Tia as Ron had done before her. "Did your mommy leave without you?"

       "I don't have a mommy," she said matter of factly. "Are you at the hotel? Come on. I'm hungry." With a tug on Ron's hand she began to pull them towards the direction of the Inn. Dumbfounded, the two "adults" followed her.

       Hermione and Tia sat themselves at a table in the far corner of the dinner while Ron went to go order some food and sweets for them.

       "You're vondering about the Cave aren't you?" Tia asked dismissively as she played with the Gobstones Hermione had conjured up with her wand. They were little marbles very similar to the ones Hermione had used with her muggle friends when she was a child.

       "What?" Hermione was dumbfounded. "How did you know that?"

       "I heard you talking to Mrs. Brashna about it." She leaned in very close in a conspiratorial manner, "You know 'Darvi' isn't _her_ real name either!" She squealed with laughter and hit another marble with her fingers.

       "What do you know about the cave," Hermione asked.

       "Oh, everyone says it's so nasty and stuffy there. They say there's a horrible monster vaiting to be let out. I don't know vhy everyone is so afraid of her."

       "Her? Her who?"

       "Parvaneh."

       "Who's that?"

       "The monster."

       Hermione blinked. She blinked again. Had she just said what she though she just said? "You _met_ her?"

       "Vell," the girl blushed slightly. "No vone believes me. They all think I'm lying or somethink. But vhen my mommy died, Parvaneh took care of me. I grew up in the mountains you know. Vhen I vas old enough, she told me I should come down here. You know, to be vith my own kind and learn how the humans live. I didn't want to, but she said I had to. But she's not mean," Tia assured. "She's very nice. Like you."

       Hermione was speechless. "Did you ever see her cave?"

       Tia bit her lip. "No. I couldn't see it. She said my eyes vould never be able to find it."

       "But you know where it is," Hermione prompted.

       She looked hesitant. "Yes."

       "Could you show me where it is?"

       But Tia was unable to answer the question because Ron had picked that very moment to come back holding several bags of candy and a drink for Tia.

       "There you are," he said as he set the drink down in front of her and handed her some of the candy. "Did you miss me?"

       The little girl blushed and giggled. While she ate her candy and played with her marbles Hermione quietly filled him in on what she had learned. They finished just as the waitress arrived with their drinks and the food. Ron thanked her and ordered another drink for Tia, who had already finished hers.

       "So," Tia said as she pushed all the green food to one corner of the plate. "Are you two _in love_?"

       Ron nearly spat out his food and Hermione almost fell off of her chair.       

       "You are, aren't you!" The little girl gushed and giggled.

       "Ehem," Ron said finding his voice. "Tia, do you think you could show us the cave tomorrow?"

       Tia stopped laughing right away and looked back down at her food. 

       "Tia, what's wrong?" Ron said softly.

       "You von't believe me."

       "Of course we will," Hermione reassured her.

       "No, you von't. No vone's ever seen it before. They all laughed at me."

       "Tia, we won't laugh at you," Ron said. "We promise."

       "Ok," Tia said, suddenly perky again.

       "You will?"

       "Mmhm," she said. "Can I have some more to drink?"

       An hour, and lots of giggling later, Ron stood up from the table and motioned for Tia to take her hand.

       "Well, little one—" he began.

       "I'm not little!"

       "Sorry." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, big girl, it's time we took you home. Er, were exactly _is_ home?"

       "I go back to Parvaneh now."

       "You do?!?!?" Hermione had leapt from her chair.

       "Yes," she said shyly. "But you can't come vith me. If you do, she'll leave and be very mad at me."

       "But why?"

       "Because I'm not allowed to take strangers back vith me. I can show you the cave, but you can't come vith me now. I'll be back tomorrow morning." She gave Ron a big hug. "Bye!"

       With that she turned and ran out of the Hotel before either of them could protest.

       "Are we really going to let her run off after dark like that," Ron said, his voice full of worry.

       "I think she'll be safe, Ron."

       "What makes you say that," he asked turning back to her.

       "The Simurgh often adopts children, remember? Weren't you listening when I told you about it?"

       "No," Ron said smirking.

       "Honestly, Ron," she said walking passed him towards the staircase. "_As I was saying_, she likes to nurse and foster small children, especially orphans. If Tia is really under her care, well let's just say she's much safer than she every could be with the two of us."

       "I vould vatch out who I talked to if I ver you," the manager's voice cut through her speech. "Some little girls have a lot of imagination, and very little discretion."

       Hermione spun around and looked him in the eye. If she didn't like him before, the feelings were nothing compared to the contempt she _now_ showed him. "And what's wrong with imagination," she demanded.

       "It can be dangerous. Especially if it can vake the monster who sleeps in the mountain."

       "It's not a monster," Hermione said. "It's a magical creature. Why are you all afraid of it?"

       "It killed our Town Leader," he shouted. Everyone in the dinning room was now looking at them.

       "Wh—what?"

       "That is right. Fool that he vas, he tried to turn himself into an animal. He vanted to get to the horrible beast. One day he went up into the mountains and he never returned."

       "Well, that explains the wolfsbane," Hermione said. "If you'll excuse us, we have some rest to get."

       She turned on her heal and walked up the stairs. Ron, utterly lost, followed her.


	8. The Snogging! (For lack of a better titl...

Disclaimer: The puppets belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to pull the strings.

A/N: I know, I know, I left you guys with a massive cliffhanger last chapter by telling you they'd be making out next but not posting it. Sorry *mischievous grin*. You know how it goes—I was tired, it was late, & I felt bad not putting at least one chapter up, so I put 7 with the promise of what I would complete today. :-P Hope you enjoy!

A/N 2: There is an NC-17 version of this exact same chapter that can be found at: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=504032 (I know, I know, but I just couldn't resist.). I just didn't feel right putting that here since I thought that the storyline shouldn't be restricted just to "adult readers." Anyways, if you're older than 17 & you don't mind a little love-making (because it isn't smut if they love each other!!!) you can read the other version in lieu of this one; all the information is the same. It just, uh, elaborates, a bit where this one doesn't. ;)

*~* The Snogging (For lack of a better title) *~*

       Once they were inside their room Hermione began pacing around wildly. She absentmindedly put things away as her brain went off in a torrent of thought. Occasionally she would mutter "Of course!" and "Why hadn't I thought of it before" but Ron knew better than to interrupt her when she was figuring something out.

       "I think," she said to no one in particular, "yes. Yes, I had better check that." She walked over to her trunk, opened it and pulled out—to Ron's immense surprise—a book. She opened up to a page three-fourths of the way through the massive volume and began to read. "All right, 'Abyssinian Shrivelfigs, Daisy root, kelp,' ah hah! There! 'Aconite'!" She looked up at Ron triumphantly and slammed the book closed. 

       "Er, you're going to explain all this, right," he asked.

       Hermione stood, her fingers nervously tidying up and putting things away as she explained. "Do you know why they're afraid of the Simurgh? Why they outlawed Aconite?"

       The blank expression on his face was all the reply she needed.

       "Because someone used the polyjuice potion to try to get to the Cave of Virtue! Don't you see? He had to turn himself into an animal, but I guess he couldn't get the animagus transformation down, or maybe he didn't have enough time. Anyway, he tried the polyjuice potion to become an animal, but he didn't make it out of the cave alive! If your intentions are tainted, you will die in the cave, remember?" She began pacing again. Her fingers, trying to busy themselves, slipped up to her robes and began un buttoning them. "The townsfolk thought the Simurgh had killed him," she continued, oblivious to her errant hands. Ron's eyes grew wide and he stared at her in disbelief. "I know!" she said misinterpreting his gaze. "To accuse a creature who's magic originates from the Tree of Knowledge of murder! Who could believe it! They just couldn't believe that he wasn't pure enough to get to the feather."

       "Um, Hermione," Ron knew the repercussions of interrupting Hermione during one of her rants, but her robes were now half unbuttoned and he could see her undergarments.

       "What is it," she huffed irritably. He blushed deep scarlet and motioned towards her robes. "What," she said looking down. Suddenly she saw what she was doing and went pale. Just as quickly, all the blood rushed to her face and she went as red as a tomato. Seeing her face go from one extreme to another, and the embarrassment of having her stand there, half dressed, in front of him was too much for Ron. He began laughing harder than he'd laughed in months. Harder than he'd laughed since he ever heard about feathers and Simurghs and Animagus transformations. Try as she might, Hermione couldn't keep a straight face either. 

       They laughed for what felt like an hour, Hermione ending up falling on the bed and Ron plopped down in a large arm char. They looked at each other, still giggling. Ron caught his breath. She still hadn't fixed the buttons on her robes and now she was laying down. Quickly he stood up and walked towards the other end of the room by the door to the bathroom. He stood with his back to her.

       "Ron, what's wrong," she asked.

       "You're, uh, you know. S-still unbuttoned," he stammered.

       "Oh!" He heard her rush around the room and he turned to tell her he'd leave the room for a bit to find that she was heading straight for him, clutching her sleeping robes in her hands. She bumped right into him. "I—I was going to the bathroom to change," she said.

       "Oh." He didn't move. She was so close to him now. He hadn't been able to get this close to her since that morning—or afternoon, rather. "Right." The spell she had used to straighten and dye her hair must have been under strain from her rushing about because a piece of what looked like a dark-blonde curl had fallen into her eye. She threw her head to the side to move it, but it moved back to its spot again. Ron suddenly realized he'd never been as mesmerized by a piece of hair as he was by that tiny curl. Before he could stop himself his hand had traveled up to her face and taken hold of the strand. He twirled it in his fingers for a second, and then tucked it behind her ear. For a second he thought he heard her breath quicken, but drove the thought away. 

**_       She doesn't like me._**

_       Why is she looking at me like that then?_

       Hermione's eyes seemed almost glazed over and she was looking up at him with her mouth slightly parted. It wasn't a big deal, but it was enough to cloud his mind even further.

       **_I—I don't know._**

_       Because she likes me!_

**_       No! She likes _****KRUM._ Not me._**__

_       Tell her how you feel!_

**_       No!_**__

_       Tell her how you feel!_

**_       Have you lost your mind?_**__

_       Tell her how you feel!_

**_       Not this again!_**

_       Tell her how you feel!_

       "Reparo." 

_       What?! **What?!**_

       Ron had raised his wand to her hair, and without even thinking about it muttered the charm to return it back to its natural state. Suddenly the blonde tresses puffed up to large brown curls. She was looking at him with a deep, questioning look in her eyes.

       Ron surprised himself by finding his voice. "I like it better this way," he said quietly. His fingers were playing with several strands of hair behind her ear now, twirling them around between his thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and nuzzled her head against his hand unconsciously. He put a couple tentative fingers on her face and caressed her skin lightly with them. Her eyes flew open and she looked at him and smiled. Something in him snapped at that moment. All his inhibitions, all of his worries seemed to disappear. She seemed to be inviting him, and he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He gently tugged her face to him and lowered his lips to meet hers. They touched lightly, and the warmth and smoothness of her lips sent shockwaves through his body. He pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. 

       _Was that ok? Do you think she's mad? She hates us now doesn't she? Bloody hell! We've ruined everything! Hey! Where are you? Hello? _

_       **Huh? What!** _

_       Where'd you go? _

_       **Dude, we're kissing her! Can't you just give it a rest for a second?** _

_       Sorry!_

       Seeing his sudden need for encouragement, Hermione dropped the robes she was still clinging to and threw her arms around him. She pulled his head close and kissed him again, opening her mouth invitingly. He kissed her back shyly, and she began nibbling on his lower lip. He returned the favor and she sighed inaudibly against mouth. The affect was invigorating. He kissed her ardently, lightly licking her lips with his tongue as if asking for permission. She captured his tongue with her mouth and sucked on it in a most tantalizing way.

**_       Wow, she's so good at this._**

_       I wonder how she…_

_       **NO! Don't ask it! **_

****_But I really need to know if…_

_       **No! You don't! You'll ruin the mood and then she'll hate me!**_

_       If I don't find out, _I'll_ hate me._

       Ron pulled away and looked down. He couldn't look her in the eyes. "Have you ever…" he couldn't finish the sentence. It just seemed so asinine…and yet he *had* to know.

       "Done this before?" she finished for him.

       "Yeah."

       "No."

       He looked up suddenly. "Really? But didn't…? I mean I would have thought that…" He couldn't say it. He was terrified about how she would react. If he said it, if he brought up the subject of _him_, then he might ruin everything when it was finally starting to go right. But he *had* to know. "Didn't Viktor ever—"

       "He tried," she said cutting him off. To his surprise, she wasn't angry with him. She was blushing like mad and looking down, but she didn't yell at him or leave. Now _she_ was the one who couldn't meet _his_ eyes.

       "But…" he prompted.

       "I didn't let him."

       "But why," he asked despite himself.

       "Because! I told him that I…" she trailed off. She looked like she was fighting an inner battle. "It was just too…" suddenly it looked like she made a decision. She looked up at him bravely and said, "I knew that I would be wishing it was you," so quickly that had he not been hanging on tenterhooks he would have missed it completely. "I couldn't do that to him, or to myself. Or to you," she said looking at him softly.

       He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Resting his head on top of hers he held her, he breathed deeply, wanting to breathe her in. Finally she pulled away a little and he looked down at her.

       She let a finger trace his jaw line and then run over his lips. She had the look of deep concentration that she usually had when she was reading a particularly fascinating book.

       "What are you trying to do," he joked. "Memorize it?"

       "Yes," she replied shyly.

       He pulled her towards him and kissed her again, allowing his tongue to show her that she didn't _have_ to memorize anything—that he would always be near her. Even if Ron had tried he couldn't have found the words to fit what he felt, and he was grateful that Hermione knew him so well. He knew that she would understand that even though he wasn't grate with words (his mind wandered to the first time he tried to compliment her: "Hermione, Neville's right – you're a girl"), she meant more to him than anyone.

       They began to pull away from each other slowly, each reluctant to stop. Every time they parted a few centimeters, one or both of them would place a gentle peck on the other's lips, successfully regaining any lost ground.

       "Hermione," Ron whispered against her lips. His voice was gruff and sounded strangely foreign. "I—I think we should. We had better, you know. Stop."

       "Right," Hermione said, placing another kissing on his lips. Finally she withdrew from him and bent down to pick up the dress robes she had dropped. She let her hand wander down from his neck and across his chest for a moment as she reached for the pale blue robes. She had no idea what such a small gesture did to his body. He shuddered and stepped back a bit. He couldn't let her know—she would think he was depraved.

       "Ehem. You, you go and change," he said not looking at her. "And, uh, I'll. Well, I'll just go to bed."

       She nodded silently and scurried to the bathroom leaving him standing there. He didn't move for a moment. If felt like a dream. He was terrified that if he moved from that spot—that blessed, blessed spot—he would wake up to find Hermione still asleep on her bed and angry with him. He shook his head and crossed the room to where his blankets still lay on the floor. He crawled in, still wearing the robes he'd had on earlier that day, and pulled his blanket around him. He closed his eyes and remembered that morning. It was only a few brief hours ago and yet things were so different. She was still mad at him then. He'd had to pretend he was asleep to hold her. Now, well now was just different.

       He heard the door to the bathroom open and shut his eyes. He listened as she walked lightly to where he lay. She knelt down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. Mimicking his actions of the morning, Ron grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her down next to him, still pretending to be asleep. She squealed and giggled but didn't resist.

       "So," she said as he pulled her ever closer against him. "You were awake, huh?"

       "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," he lied.

       "Uh huh." They were in the same position they had been earlier, she laying on her back and he on his side beside her. She ran her fingers up and down his arm sending chills through his back. The ground was so uncomfortable. She felt guilty for making him sleep there the night before. She wanted to suggest they move to the bed, but she didn't want to give him the wrong idea. She nuzzled against him and closed her eyes. "Good night, Ron."

       He was silent for a long time. She assumed he had fallen asleep and allowed her eyes to drift shut slowly.

       "I love you Hermione," he whispered. It was barely inaudible.

       "What?" Her eyes flew open and she looked at him. He was watching her with a look of hesitation in his eyes.

       "I—I love you. You don't have to say it back or anything," he assured her seeing the look of panic in her eyes. "I just wanted to say it."

       She reached up and touched the side of his face. "I love you," she said slowly and deliberately, making sure he heard every syllable. He leaned in and kissed her forehead and then tightened his grip around her, as if afraid if he let go--even for a second--that she would evaporate. Neither of them said another word for the rest of the night. They just laid in each other's arms trying desperately to remember every aspect of that moment. It was some time before either of them trusted themselves to fall asleep.


	9. The Feather

Disclaimer: You know the drill—the puppet's belong to someone much more intelligent & skilled than me. The strings are a product of my insanity.

A/N: Hey you guys. I'm *so* sorry I took so long to publish the next installment. I hit a kind of rut & wasn't sure where to go with it. I'm working on several chapters that I want to interject in the beginning mostly dealing with Harry and his secret and what drives him to do what he does, so look out for those when I do post it, K? Thanks for all of your reviews and suggestions and I'd still really like to hear what you think so *please* R/R! The end is near!

*~* The Feather *~*

       The morning light seeped through the open window, invading the room and leaving Ron with a strong resentment for the sun. He tightened his eyes, determined not to wake up for a hundred years. He pulled his arms tighter around the figure that lay beside him and tried to nuzzle his face in her shoulder. It was then that he realized his arms encircle not the woman who owned his heart, but a very cold and fluffy pillow.

       "Mione," he said groggily. His voice was dry and constricted and it ended up sounding more like "Mine." There was no answer. He groaned. 

       I knew it was too good to be true. Stupid dream.

       He heard the door to the bathroom opened and opened his eyes just enough to peek out to see Hermione—blonde hair and all—fully dressed for the day. He let his mind wonder over the images that filled his mind. He felt a presence at his feet and looked down to find Hermione climbing into bed with him.

**_       It _****wasn't_ a dream?_**

       She pulled the pillow out of his arms and slipped herself into its place caressing his hairline with her fingers.

       "You know," she said quietly. "You're going to have to charm your hair back to brown before we can go downstairs."

       He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "Does that mean if I refuse to do it then we'll just stay up here," he gave her a gentle squeeze "all day?"

       A shadow came over her face but was quickly replaced with a smile. "Come on you. Tia is probably waiting for us."

       "Tia? Tia who?"

       "Ron, come on. We've got to find the cave today."

       "I know," the disappointment was evident in his tone. "I just wanted to pretend for a little while that we're just two wild kids spending a weekend alone and breaking all the rule."

       "You do know that that's what we're doing, right?"

       "Yeah, but it's just not the same," he said pouting like a five year old.

       She kissed his forehead and helped him get up, which was no easy feat since every time he sat upright he would tug on her arm and bring him back down with him. Finally he reluctantly got up and went into the bathroom to charm his hair and Hermione took two carrying packs down to the Inn's kitchen to get some supplies.

       Tia and Hermione were talking in a conspiratorial manner when Ron descended the stairs of the Inn.

       "Hey you two," he said when he got there. Then, when he got close enough he lowered his voice. "What were you guys talking about?"

       "Well," Hermione said so quietly he had to lean in towards her. "Tia was just telling me that she saw Vladimir Keatin stealing cookies from Mrs. Naidenova!"

       "Oh," Ron said a little confused. Tia and Hermione began giggling hysterically and he shifted uneasily. "Um, shouldn't we start off then?"

       "Yay," Tia giggled and grabbed Ron's hand and led him out of the Inn towards the mountain. 

**

A/N: Right…um, ok so you can all see the problem with my story now. It's Winter, they're in the mountains, yet there's no worry about climbing up the mountain in the snow…why? Because I'm lazy & I don't want to deal with snowstorms and the cold. I'm just going to pretend it's not too cold & I hope you guys go along with it k? ;) Thanks.  

       "Did you know that the Roman god Jupiter was really a wizard?" Tia said cheerily as they hiked through the rough landscape. They had been climbing in relative silence for nearly an hour up the rugged mountainside. Ron noticed that there was no hint of fatigue in her youthful voice. "Parvaneh said he always loved to show off. He was an animagus, you know. He tried to save the Roman empire by turning into an eagle and finding her cave."

       Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. "Did you say eagle?"

       "Uh huh."

       "What happened to him?"

       "I don't know," she shrugged. "She never told me. Oh look!" With that, Tia ran towards a bush on the side of the mountain. Ron was very surprised to see that anything was alive this far up the mountain, and indeed it did seem to be the only living creature besides the three of them. Everything around the bush was abysmally dry and dead, and yet the small fruits were glistening and ripe.

       "How can that be," he wondered aloud.

       "How can what be?" Hermione studied his expression, trying to hide how cute she found him behind a cloak of curiosity.

       "Well, the blueberries," he said pointing at the bush. "It's December and they're ripe. How can that be?"

       "You know," she said squeezing his hand, "you can be quite brilliant when you're paying attention."

       Ron had the urge to give her a kiss but suddenly got the feeling that they were being watched.

       "Euck!" A tiny voice jolted him back. They sprang apart and Hermione walked over to the bush. "This bush is special," Tia said.

       "Really?" Hermione was now kneeling in front of the tree and touching its leaves as if testing if it was indeed really there.

       "Yes. See that rock?" Tia turned around and pointed to a rock to the right of the direction they had been walking. "That's the cave, but it looks like a rock because it's hidden."

       "Thank you," Ron said walking up to Tia and then kneeling down in front of her. She threw her arms around him, much to his surprise, and hugged him.

       "Tia," Hermione said when they finally disengaged. "I want you to go back to the Inn all right? Here's a little money. We'll meet you there."

       "Maybe," Tia replied flippantly. "Can I buy anything I want?"

       "Yes, of course you can. Whatever you can afford with it."

       Without another word, the little girl turned and walked back down the mountain half-skipping and singing.

       "There's something off about that little girl," Ron muttered as he watched her go, "but I'm not sure it's all bad. You ready?"

       Hermione nodded and closed her eyes. Ron followed suit. He tried to concentrate with all his might on his transformation but having Hermione beside him made it difficult. _If you don't concentrate, you'll end up walking into a hospital with a big tail and whiskers!_ He shook his head and tried again. He pictured himself as a cat, imagined his hair turning into thick fur, whiskers sprouting up from his nose, his mouth and jaw extending forward and his ears shooting up. He heard Hermione utter the spell, and decided now was as good a time as any. "Mutacio," he whispered, and with a buzzing sound in his ears the sensations of the transformation washed over him. Once again he felt the stinging as his red hair began to fluff and spread all over him. Covered in red fur, whiskers started to sprout from his now scrunched and wet nose. His face began expanding forward creating the muzzle and he felt himself bending towards the floor. All four paws on the ground, he blinked. He opened his mind to say something but heard only a soft "Meow" escape his mouth.

       "Squawk," Hermione seemed to agree. He looked at the rock Tia had shown them and gasped. It wasn't a rock at all! It was a massive cave with dark wall upon which a red light akin to fire danced and shimmered. With a look to Hermione, he walked towards it. Hermione took flight and hovered above him protectively, ready to snatch him up if need be. He took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into the cave, and noticed, to his surprise, that he didn't feel any different. Walking into the Cave of Virtue felt no different than walking into any other cave, or room, or building for that matter. They went down a rather long tunnel for what seemed like hours. At long last they reached a cliff. Ron inched towards the edge of the cliff and peered out. Bellow him was indeed a massive moat of molten lava, bubbling and gurgling. He suddenly realized that it was unbearably hot under his fur and for a fleeting moment he worried that Hermione's feathers might melt off. In his musing he didn't notice Hermione lowering herself above him, and he was startled when he felt surprising gentle talons close around the pouch of skin on the back of his neck. It was a strange feeling—he was being carried the way a mamma carries her kittens and he realized it somehow left him almost paralyzed, making it very difficult to move if he needed to escape. _Wow, leaves me kinda vulnerable, doesn't it?_ He looked down as they crossed the enormous rift. A bubble of lava burst below him sending sparks of lava up at him. He jerked his leg up narrowly missing the deadly liquid. He wanted to scream for Hermione to fly higher but the only sound he made was a rather excited hiss. Hermione, getting the point, flapped her elegant wings more quickly, and they rose several feet. Ron breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the other end of the rift. The soft pads at the bottom of his paws relished the feeling of solid land beneath them and he began scratching the ground for some inexplicable reason. Suddenly, he heard laughter behind him. He turned to find Hermione—not eagle Hermione, _human_ Hermione—standing behind him and watching him with a twinkle in her eyes. She crouched down and began petting him behind the ears and he couldn't help purring.

       "Come on," she said. "You can turn back."

       Ron stood up and walked a few feet away from her and closed his large cat-eyes. He concentrated on his red hair, numerous freckles and tall, lanky frame. _Mutacio,_ he though. He felt his entire body lengthen and the hair recede all the way up to his head. When the transformation was complete, he opened his eyes and looked at Hermione.

       "I don't understand," he said.

       "Me either. I thought I'd give it a try, and it worked. I thought our magic wasn't any good in here…but then something I read came back to me. It had said 'enchanted objects' and I assumed that to mean anything magical, including us, but now I wonder. I think it meant inanimate objects that were enchanted with magic, like brooms and such…but even a Simurgh couldn't strip us of _our_ magic. It's a part of us. It would be like robbing a muggle of his legs or something. Am I making any sense?"

       "Yes…er, no, but it doesn't really matter. Let's find the feather and get out of here. This place makes me nervous."

       "Right," she nodded and turned towards a large cavern. The walls were lined with gold and at the center of the table sat a single feather. A cursory glance around the room showed there were no statues bearing weapons, no walls, nothing whatsoever barring them from the feather.

       "Hoot!"

       "What was that?" Ron spun around to find a large, black owl flying towards them. "What in bloody hell is _that_ doing here!?!?"

       "Ron! Don't swear!"

       "Hermione, we're in a mythical cave, searching for a miraculous feather and we're being followed by a huge black owl and you're worried about my _choice of words_?"

       "Hoot!" The owl landed in front of them and before Hermione could say a word it began to change. It's wings shrunk down to its sides and its legs and torso spread out.

       "It's an Animagus," Ron cried, jumping protectively in front of Hermione. He held his wand out to it, and watched as it's black feathers bunched at the top of its head and began to thicken into strands of stubborn hair. Its beak receded to reveal a face very familiar to the couple.

       "Harry!" They both cried at the same time.

       "Hi guys," he said pushing up his glasses and walking quickly towards the cavern.

       "What is going _on_?" Ron demanded.

       "I can't explain, you've got to hurry. There's very little time!"

       "What are you talking about?"

       "I told you I haven't time to explain it just yet!"

       "Well that's not good enough, Harry!" Ron crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his friend as though he'd been betrayed.

       "Ron, I'm sorry. I—I had to do it. I had no other choice!"

       "Balderdash! You could have told us the truth!"

       "No, Ron, you don't understand. No one could know I was here."

       "Harry Potter, you had better start explaining," Hermione broke in furious.

       "I told you! I—"

       Suddenly a scream broke out. The looked at each other and turned back to the cliff. There, on the edge, hanging on with her tiny little fingers was Tia.

       "Tia!" Ron cried!

       "Ron! Look," Hermione screamed. Ron turned and saw that suddenly the walls of the threshold into the cavern holding the feather were closing in quickly. "It's closing Ron!"

       Tia screamed again, and the three of them hesitated no longer. They ran towards the little girl. Hermione transformed as she ran, her wings expanding beside her. Ron and Harry ran and grabbed Tia's hands and Hermione closed her large talons around her collar and lifted her up. Once she was safe, Hermione transformed back and looked back at the cavern. The doors were closed forever. She felt her eyes sting as a tear formed in her eye. They had lost their only hope for saving Voldemort. She looked back and saw Tia, sitting very still as if in shock. _It was worth it,_ she thought looking at the little girl. Suddenly, Tia's head snapped up and looked at her. Hermione had never realized how piercing her eyes were before—it was almost as though they could see right through her: right through to her very core. She turned the piercing gaze at Ron, and then to Harry, letting it rest on him for a while. Then, still silent, she stood up and closed her eyes. Hermione nearly fell over as she realized that Tia was transforming. Her neck expanded and a beak shot out from her face. Four massive wings sprung from her back, and she took on the body of a horse. Scales began to cover her body, starting with her hooves and working their way all the way up to her long elegant neck.

       "Simurgh," Hermione cried.

       **Yes,** Hermione felt, rather than heard the response. Harry and Ron looked up at her, apparently feeling the same thing.

       "But, but I thought you…" Ron stammered.

        **Yes, I know.**

       "You were testing us, weren't you," Hermione seemed to be thinking aloud, but she didn't stop. "When you came to us in the form of a small girl, telling us about the cave and the Sim—uh, yourself. You were testing us?"

       **Yes. Your kind seems to take the knowledge of your young very lightly. Few have I seen who heeded the fantastic stories of a little girl. Wisdom can come from the most unlikely of sources, but it seems most of your kind cannot accept it from one who is 'inferior'.**

       The three stared at her in silent disbelief. This was the _strangest_ this they had ever encountered. They had never expected to find the Simurgh without ever touching her feather, much less to have _her_ find _them_. She turned her majestic head towards Ron.

       **You showed me the kindness of a brother, though you did not know me.**

       Ron blushed and looked down. She turned to Hermione.

       **You believed my words without question, against the warning of the townsfolk. It would have been more logical to follow their warnings and yet you believed a child who spoke the truth over an adult who spoke from fear and distrust.**

       Then she turned to Harry who looked at her in wonder.

       **You risked your secrecy, exposed yourself to me in my time of need. You could have been killed.**

       Ron and Hermione looked at Harry in confusion, but it was nothing to the bewilderment with which he looked at her.

       "How did you know that?"

       **I know a great deal. I know of the two who hunt you, and I know of the risk you took in helping me. Only a man of virtue would have done what you did.**

       She then turned her head so her piercing gaze could roam over all three faces.

       **But that was not enough. You had to prove that you were willing to give up what you wanted most—that for which you have come so far—to save a life.**

       She motioned with her head towards the Cavern and the three looked behind them to find that the threshold was once again open, and the feather laying on the table at the center once again.

       "H—how? _Why_?" Ron was flabbergasted.

       **You had to make a choice. The feather, or the girl. Of course, if you had chosen the feather you would have been locked inside the vault until your death. But, if you chose the girl, then you would have been free to take that which you came for.**

       "You—you mean,"

       **The feather is yours to take, but know this. If I can help you when you call upon me, I will, but I cannot rid your world of evil. No creature of this earth can. Though one may be defeated, hatred and ignorance will live on. No amount of fighting will remedy that. Blood shed will only fuel it further. Hatred is healed, not defeated.**

       Before any of them could speak, she flapped her four enormous wings and rose above them.

       **Use the feather wisely!** She called as she flew out of the cave.

       Ron and Hermione turned to Harry with looks asking a thousand questions. 

       "We haven't time for that," he said briskly and walked into the cavern with Ron and Hermione close behind. He slowed as he approached the feather and turned his head from side to side, as if expecting another test or obstacle. Finding none, he reached out a tentative hand and let his fingers touch the tip of the feather. He shuttered.

       "Are you ok," Hermione asked quietly.

       "Yes," he replied. "It—it's strange. It felt as though all my energy were returned to me, or something. Here," he picked the feather up and held it out to her.

       She reached out and touched it with a few fingers. She too shuttered and lifted the feather and held it out to Ron. Raising an eyebrow quizzically, he reached for the feather. As soon as his fingers came in contact with it he felt a rush of warmth shoot up his arm. It traveled up into his chest, where it spread all over his body. He felt as though he had just woken up from the most restful sleep he'd ever had. He took the feather in his hand and looked at it. It glimmered in the light from the lava. It looked as though it had been made out of a metal more precious than gold, and yet it was softer than any feather he had ever touched.

       "It's amazing. It's so…beautiful." He handed it back to Harry, who put it in his mouth as he began to transform.

       "Let's go," he said just before the transformation was complete. "Hurry!"

       Ron and Hermione shrugged and transformed. Hermione grabbed Ron by the same pouch of skin and lifted him off the ground. Flying was much quicker, even than a cat, and the three were out of the cave quickly. What Ron saw when they were out of the cave shocked him. The town bellow was completely draped in darkness. Everywhere around him was daylight, but it looked as though someone had hung invisible curtains around the small wizarding town at the food of the mountain. Large clouds circled it and occasional lightning struck out. _What on earth is going _on_??_

       Hermione didn't pause in her flight or set Ron down. Seeing the darkness she realized that whatever was going on was something urgent, and suddenly understood Harry's impatience. She beat her wings as hard as she could, willing herself to soar faster than before. Harry, too, quickened his speed although he was still quite a ways ahead of him. Crossing over into the town was like walking from one world into another; everything was dark. No sunlight could penetrate the invisible barrier. Suddenly, Ron realized he could hear screams. He looked down to find people running around. They all seemed to be running away from the same direction. At the other end of the town he could make out two figures, one slightly smaller than the other, standing on a platform. The larger figure had his wand outstretched and flashes of green light shot out in all different directions from it. He hissed involuntarily at the sight.

       Harry began to lower himself down behind a roof, and Hermione followed suit. She put Ron down beside Harry and landed beside Ron, lowering her head. Harry's owl body became deformed and Ron realized he was transfiguring back into his human state. Ron and Hermione followed suit. 

       "Voldemort," Harry said when all three were once again humans. Ron winced at the sound of the name and looked at Harry.

       "What do we do?"

       "We've got to burn the feather. We can't face him now that he's risen again."

       "Can't we just use the killing curse on him from here? He'll never know what hit him!"

       "Ron," Hermione said, suddenly annoyed. "He's immortal, remember? We can't just _Avada Kedavra_ him. He'll loose his body but his spirit—" she shuttered "—will live on. Harry's right, we've got to burn the feather."

       Suddenly Harry let out a yelp and his face became strangely screwed up. He was trembling slightly, as though he were in great pain. Ron looked up and saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named facing them, pointing his wand at their rooftop.

       "Harry!" Ron cried.

       "Wormtail!" Voldemorts cruel high-pitched voice rang out loudly.

       "_Crucio_!" The voice was different. Weaker, less confident, but no less cruel. 

       Suddenly Ron jolted and nearly fell off the roof. He began trembling in the same way that Harry had. He vaguely heard Hermione's voice scream out "No," but it seemed far away. He felt as though every inch of his body had been covered in acidic Veela blood and was now bubbling over in boils. On top of that, it felt as though each of his bones were being crushed one by one. He wanted the pain to stop. He would give anything for it to stop. He prayed for death, begging silently for it to rescue him from the agony. And then…it suddenly stopped.

       "Expelliramus!" Hermione had disarmed Wormtail and Ron collapsed in her arms. 

       Voldemort released Harry from his Cruciatus Curse and turned his wand to Hermione. "_Accio_ girl!"

       Ron tried desperately to hold onto Hermione and she was lifted and pulled rather quickly towards the platform.   

       "NO!"

       When Hermione reached Voldemort he grabbed her by the arm and threw her on the ground. Then he stood towering over her with his wand pointed at her. "What do you think, Wormtail," he said loudly. "Shall I kill her now and be done with it quickly, or let her suffer first?"

       Thinking fast, Ron cried out "Don't hurt her!"

       Voldemort smiled and turned back to Hermoine. "_Crucio_," he said in a high, clear voice.

       This was what Ron had wanted. He would never wish for her to undergo the agony of the Cruciatus Curse, but he couldn't let Voldemort kill her. He had to buy time. "Harry," he said turning towards his very pale friend. "Quick, the feather!"

       Harry pointed his wand to the feather he held in his hand. "_Incen--_"

       Before he could finish his spell the feather flew out of his hand and down towards Voldemort who had left Hermione doubled over on the ground.

       "Noooo!!!!!!" Ron and Harry's voices cried out together.

       Once Voldemort grabbed the feather he uttered a spell and Harry and Ron were lifted up above the roof. They were paralyzed by an unseen force and drifted to the platform where Hermione lay. With a flick of the wrist the force was removed and they fell ten feet to the ground.

       "Ahhhhhhhhh!" Ron's voice was full of agony. He had fallen onto his hands and rolled to the right, twisting his wrist into most unnatural position. "Arrgggg! Why does this stuff always happen to _me_?"

       He rolled in pain for a moment until he heard laughter break coming from behind him. He turned to see Voldemort standing over them with an expression of glee on his face.

       "Did that hurt," he asked in mock sympathy. "Shall I show you what _real_ pain is?"

       Ron shuttered at the thought revisiting the sensation of the bubbling boils.

       "No," he heard Harry cry. His voice was constricted and he coughed. Ron turned to see him cradling his ribs with one arm and supporting himself with the other.

       "No," Voldemort said. "No? What will you do if I do? Will you kill me? Your wand sits beside you. Go on boy! Take it."

       Harry lurched for his wand but met Wormtail's foot as he kicked it out of his reach.

       "What's the matter? Can't reach?" Voldemort raised his wand to Harry with a look of contentment on his face.

       "_Expelliramus_!" Ron had managed to crawl to his wand while everyone was occupied with Harry and, holding it with his good hand, shot the wand out of Voldemort's hands. "_Accio_ wand!"

       He caught the wand in his hand, then tossed it to Harry. With Harry at the advantage, Ron was free to turn back to the unconscious Hermione. He scooped her up in his arms gingerly, half afraid to hurt her half afraid to further injure his wrist.

       "Hermione," he muttered into her ear. "Come on Hermione, get up! Oh God Hermione, please, get up!" He stroked her hair out of her face to reveal blood trickling down from her forehead.

       "Wormtail!" During all of this, Voldemort had turned his attention to Pettigrew, who had turned his back and begun inching away from the scene. "Give me your wand!"

       Wormtail scurried back to his master and handed him the wand. "M-master, what will you do?"

       Fury ignited in Voldemort's eyes. "What concern is it to you?" Wormtail recoiled to the ground, cowered by his master's glare. When he was satisfied that no further interruptions would come from his mutinous servant, Voldemort turned his attention to Harry. He held the wand up and uttered a curse. Before Harry had time to respond with the wand in his hand, he was lifted off of the ground once more. He jerked and trembled in pain until he finally let go of the wand. Wormtail crawled to where the wand lay, picked it up and offered it to his master in penitence.

       Suddenly, Harry dropped out of the sky once more onto the platform. Voldemort turned his attention to Wormtail. "_Crucio_," he said flatly. He then pried his wand from the trembling fingers and flicked his wrist. Wormtail stopped trembling and balled up on the floor crying.

       "No more games, Harry Potter," Voldemort said turning to Harry who was also a pile of trembles on the ground. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

       "No, master! No!" Wortmail's voice rang out and Harry felt a heavy load on top of him.

       "No!!!" Ron turned from Hermione to where Harry lay and what he saw was enough to shock his senses. Wormtail was laying on top of Harry, utterly still.

       "Enough!" Voldemort looked utterly incensed. He took up the feather and held it high so that Ron and Harry could see. "_Incendio!"_

       The feather ignited instantly burning a metallic color with sparks of silver flying everywhere. High above them, the clouds began to disperse. The thunder and lightning stopped and sunlight began to seep in from all angles.

       "What is this magic," Voldemort cried turning to Harry. Then came the sound of flapping wings, a rhythmic, musical beat that was almost enchanting. Ron wondered why he hadn't noticed it in the cave when the Simurgh flew away. He closed his eyes and let the beat wash over him. He felt at peace, and noticed that the stinging in his wrist had dulled considerably. Harry, too, had noticed the soothing affects of the wings. He crawled out from underneath Wormtail's still body and looked up at the Simurgh, heart suddenly full of hope. The gentle wing-beat had an altogether different affect on Voldemort. He threw his hands up to his ears and began screaming. Harry had never seen Voldemort in pain before. Every time he had seen him he was cruel and angry, never desperate and panicked like now. He never thought it possible. Suddenly Voldemort turned to Harry.

       "You," he cried. "You!" He raised his wand yet another time to Harry and uttered the killing curse. In a blaze of feathers and scales the Simurgh was in front of Harry, blocking Voldemort's curse. The green flash was simply absorbed by her scales without any affect. Voldemort repeated the curse again and again, determined to destroy the monster that had stood between him and his goal.   Suddenly the Simurgh turned to Harry and then to Ron. **Cover your ears,** she told them. Harry threw his hands over his ears and Ron turned to Hermione and uttered a silence spell. He turned his wand to himself and did the same. Suddenly everything went quiet. Voldemort raised his wand to the Simurgh and his mouth opened. Ron could tell from his face that he was shouting something, but heard nothing. Suddenly the Simurgh threw her head back and opened her massive beak for the first time since they had met her. The ground beneath him began to shake and he saw Voldemort shake and fall to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Harry trembling. He turned to Harry and lifted his wand. He opened his mouth to utter the silence spell but heard nothing. It must have worked though, because suddenly Harry looked up and nodded to him in thanks. The shaking stopped and the Simurgh turned to them.

       **This one is hurt,** she said, motioning to Hermione. Ron opened her mouth to tell her something but couldn't hear his words. He remembered the silence and turned his wand on himself and uttered the counter-spell. He did the same to Hermione, and then to Harry.

       "She won't wake up," Ron said finally turning to the Simurgh. She walked over to them and lowered a wing.

       **Take a feather from my wing. Break it in half and rub part of it on your wrist; it will heal you. Rub the other half on her wound and enclose it in her hand. She will heal, though it may take a moment.** She then turned to Harry who had come and stood beside her. **Is this the one against whom you seek my help,** she asked referring to the unconscious Voldemort.

       "Yes."

       **You will come with me, then.** She turned to Ron. **You will take your companion home. You have no need to remain in this place.**

       "But, what about Harry," Ron asked.

       **He will return when his task is complete.**

       Ron nodded and watched as she lowered herself and allowed Harry to climb on top of her. She took Voldemort into her mouth and with a pump of her wings they were off the ground. She raised them higher and higher, every beat of the wings bringing Harry's eyelids closer and closer together. The rhythmic beat soon lulled him to sleep.

       Ron could now finally turn his attention back to Hermione. For a moment he allowed himself to stare at her. Giving into impulse, he caressed the soft skin of her cheek. He shuttered when he felt how cold it was, and it snapped him back to reality: she was hurt, and he needed to do something, quickly. He broke the feather in half and hastily rubbed part of it onto his wrist. He felt a tingling sensation and heard a crack as his bones realigned themselves. To his surprised he felt very little pain; in fact, there was a warmth emanating from his hand that was quite comforting. Taking the other half of the feather he traced the cut from her forehead all the way across her skull. Voldemort had nearly killed her, and Ron could feel the anger welling up inside him. Suddenly her hands twitched and she turned her face from side to side, as though she were having a horrible nightmare.

       "It's ok," Ron whispered to her as he closed her fingers around the feather. "I'm here, it's ok."

       Her movements increased intensity and her face screwed up in pain as the feather brought her back to consciousness. Suddenly her eyes flew open and turned to him.

       "Ron," she cried as she threw her arms around his neck. "You're ok!"

       "Of course I'm ok," he said gently. "What happened? Are you all right? Do you feel pain? What did that monster do to you?" He said the last part quickly and held her at arms length to take a look at her.

       She laughed as tears streamed down her face and threw her arms around him again. "You're ok," she was sobbing now. "You're ok."


	10. The Simurgh's Nest

Disclaimer: Yada yada. The puppets & stage belong to JKR…the strings are mine.

A/N: I'm sorry it took so long! I just…well…got lazy! I hope this and the Epilogue make up for it. Thank you all VERY VERY much for taking the time to read my little fanfic. I'm sorry it's short, but it just seemed better this way.

*~* The Simurgh's Nest *~*

          Warmth. All he could feel was a warmth that began in his heart and slowly spread throughout his body with every beat of his heart. And then, there was a field. It appeared suddenly, as though he had just opened his eyes. The grass was tall and tickled his knees as he walked, and there were patches of flowers dotted here and there. He took in a deep breath of air so clean and so rejuvenating it felt like he was breathing in the very source of life itself.

          "Harry!" He turned to find a babbling brook just behind him. At the bank of the brook were two people laughing together. The woman's back was to him, but he could see the fiery red hair that wrapped itself around her and shone in the sunlight as she giggled and turned to the side. It struck him suddenly that he recognized her profile from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it. His attention was turned to the man as he threw the baby up in the air and caught him. His black hair and green eyes struck him instantly. _Mom? Dad?_

          "Harry," the woman said again. But she wasn't talking to him, or to the infant. She was addressing the man. "Be careful."

          "It's ok," his older self was replying. "He's fine. He's safe, I _can_ catch, you know."

          He sat in the fields watching the two for a long time as they played and laughed with the baby. He had never felt so at peace before in his life.

          **Harry,** a voice broke through the vision and suddenly everything became a blur. **It is time, Harry.**

          He felt himself being pulled head first as though someone had done a summoning charm on it and the rest of his body were obliged to follow. Everything was a blur and he felt incredibly dizzy now. His ears pounded and his head ached, and then, there was nothing. Only blackness and tranquility.

          **You have been healed.**

          His eyes fluttered and he caught sight of the Simurgh watching him. He looked for the first time right into its eyes. In it he saw a pool deeper than he ever imagined possible. There was wisdom and pain, compassion and strength beyond what he thought possible.

          **You had a dream**, it was not a question.

          "Y-yes."

          **It was pleasant?** Surprisingly, this _was_ a question.

          "Er-yes. It was very pleasant."

          The pools in the eyes softened and the Simurgh looked almost relieved. **Come, you must attend to this one,** she said, turning her head towards Voldemort. Harry's head suddenly cleared and he remembered why he was there. He took a minute to orient himself and realized he was in a huge nest larger in size than the Dursley's house. He didn't dare to look over the edge for he knew they were very high up. He doubted he'd even see the ground if he looked over. In the center of the nest were four enormous eggs, and laying beside them was a still very unconscious Voldemort.

          Harry crawled over to where Voldemort lay, still too dazed to trust himself to walk. "Is he…is he…?"

          **He still breathes air. No, he is not dead.**

          "Oh." Harry wasn't quite sure if he was disappointed or relieved. This was the man who had killed his parents. It was because of this man that his Godfather had spent thirteen lonely years in the most miserable place ever imagined. It was because of this man that so many people, like Neville Longbottom's parents, and many, many more have had their lives torn apart. And yet, Harry felt something in his heart. He couldn't quite place it--and he cursed his weakness. Surely anyone else would have used this opportunity to kill Voldemort while he was unconscious. Would have used it to rid the world of him for good. Harry just couldn't bring himself to do it.

          **You debate with yourself,** she said, breaking through his thoughts.

          "Yes."

          **But you do not know your options.**

          At this, Harry was incredibly confused. What did that mean? "What are my options?"

          **You have heard of the Egg of the Simurgh, have you not?**

          "Yes."

          **And you know of it's powers?**

          "It is poisonous."

          If Harry had known better he would have sworn he had seen confusion flash in her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

          **Let me ask you this: What do you want? Choose wisely.**

          "I want…" Harry stopped. What _did_ he want? Did he want Voldemort dead? But that didn't work last time. His body had died but his spirit, Harry shuttered at the thought, had lived on. It had possessed body after body until it could finally be restored. Did he really want to reset that wheel? Send Voldemort's shadow off to bide it's time until it was time to rise again? No. "I want him gone," he finally said, the resolution in his voice surprising himself. "I want him to be gone forever, never to rise again. Never to hurt anyone again."

          A sentiment akin to relief passed momentarily through the Simurgh's eyes and was quickly replaced with the same wise pools. **You have chosen wisely,** she finally said, **for I cannot give you his death. Powerful though I may be, I will not kill him. I will, however, give you what you ask for.**

          If Harry had thought himself confused when he dreaded to think that Voldemort was dead, it was nothing to this. "But, I don't understand."

          **Place one of his hands on one of my eggs, but be careful not to touch it yourself. If you do, even I cannot help you, for there is no escape from the misery within the egg.**

          Harry knelt beside Voldemort screwing up his courage. With a trembling hand, he did as he was asked and readied himself for something. Seconds passed and nothing happened. Voldemort lay motionless with his hand to the egg.

          **He is strong, stronger than I would expect.** She turned to Harry and looked him dead in the eyes. **You must help.**

          "How?"

          **I sense a magic in you that you yourself are yet not aware of. You are stronger than you know. You must banish him.**

          "But, but how?" He felt so very small and useless standing beside the majestic creature and he eggs.

          **Concentrate on what you want.**

          Harry wanted her to continue, to elaborate and explain to him just what she meant, but knew that was all the help he'd get from her. _Concentrate on what you want…_He closed his eyes tightly and thought of all the things that would change with Voldemort's banishment. He saw Neville reunited with his parents. He saw Sirius cleared and smiling happily. And he saw the Weasleys, all of them, sitting happily together in the living room, laughing and teasing one another. Hermione was there, holding Ron's hand. And Sirius was arguing with Bill about Quidditch while Charlie bounced a baby on his knee. Everyone was happy, everyone was free. Voldemort was gone. _This_ was what he wanted.

          "I banish you," he said, his voice more steady than he ever would have imagined it could be. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated very hard on the image in his mind. He didn't dare break his concentration for fear of failing.

          **It is done.**

          His eyes flew open and what he beheld shocked him. Voldemort was gone. _Literally_. His body was gone and the egg he had been touching had turned a murky brown color.

          "Where is he?"

          She turned her head to the egg. **He is imprisoned. He can never escape. No amount of magic will free him from the confines which hold him. There is only one way to free him.**

          Harry felt the blood drain from his face. There was a way to free him. There was a chance for him to escape.

          **He can only be freed by you. You who sent in into exile alone can consent to his being released.**

          "There is no other way?"

          **No.**

          Harry felt a rush of relief. He knew that there truly was _no_ chance for Voldemort to escape. He would sooner die than release him. Voldemort was truly gone.

          **Your task is complete. I shall take you home now.**

          Harry climbed up onto the Simurgh and listened as the wings resumed their rhythmic lullaby. There was still something gnawing at him. He was sure that his dream meant something, but he wasn't sure what. He knew she had the answer…but what was the question?

          **You wish to ask me something?**

          "Um, yes." He felt very shy now for some reason. "M-my dream. It felt so…real." He was feeling incredibly sleepy now. It took great effort not to nod off.

          **It was a glimpse. Many dream when they enter my nest. The magic protecting it seems to give humans visions.**

          "A glimpse? Visions of what?" His eyelids were drooping now.

          **Of your future.**

          They fell into silence as the beat of the wings lulled him to sleep. He did not remember anything of the trip home, and he never had a chance to thank the beautiful creature that had helped him rid his world of the evil of Lord Voldemort.


	11. Epilogue

*~* Epilogue *~*

          "You have a lot of explaining to do," a stern voice broke through the darkness. It was slurred, and Harry could not tell if that was because of his dizziness or because the words were indeed being slurred.

          "I know, Professor, but if we could just--" Ron's voice was abruptly cut off by another, kinder voice.

          "Now, now, Severus. I hardly think now is the time."

          "But Professor Dumbledore," he cried indignantly, "They leave on the Hogwarts Express three days ago headed for who knows where, and suddenly show up seemingly out of no where! These to come traipsing onto the grounds like it had been a Hogsmeade weekend, and Potter! He miraculously shows up in the Hospital wing!"

          "Severus, I must ask you to calm yourself." Professor Dumbledore's voice had an edge to it that seemed to put all further inquiries to rest. "Poppy, if you would please."

          In another instant Harry felt something cold against his lips. A cold liquid rushed into his mouth and made its way ever-so-slowly down his throat where it spread all about him. With a shiver and a shock he jumped up, now fully awake. _I think I prefer the Simurgh's way_. He looked around the room to find that not only were Professor Snape, Ron, and Professor Dumbledore present, but also Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well. None of the adults looked very pleased, although Mrs. Weasley's expression of worry was much harder to take in than Professor Snape's outrage. 

          "Harry, how are you feeling?" Professor Dumbledore broke the silence and moved over to his side.

          "Voldemort. I--we. We thought we could get rid of him." At this Mrs. Weasley gasped loudly and threw her hands over his shoulders.

          "What were you thinking? Thank goodness you're alive!"

          "Harry, I must ask you to tell us everything. Whatever information you provide may prove invaluable for the order." The old man's eyes were alight with anticipation, and for the first time in a long time, Harry allowed himself to smile.

          "I think the order may relax finally. He is gone."

          "What?" Professor Snape took a step closer to the bed, his eyes wide. "Voldemort is _dead_?"

          "No," Harry's smile wavered and he looked at his mentor for support. "H-he can't die. The night of the third task, he said he had done things. Things that made him immortal in a way. When his body died, his soul was still there, waiting."

          Mrs. Weasley let out a sob and held onto Mr. Weasley closely.

          "But, you said he was gone." It occurred to Harry that he had never had a civil conversation for so long with Professor Snape before.

          "He is. He's imprisoned." He proceeded to describe, with the aid of his two best friends everything that happened. They told them about the Simurgh; about it's eggs, the feather, the little girl. He only held one thing back. He didn't tell them about his dream; he felt it was too personal. After all, it had been _his_ future, and it had little to do with the war or Voldemort. It was a special moment that only mattered to him, his child, and the woman. As he let his mind roam over the dream, he realized that he could recall vividly every detail about the dream except for one thing: He couldn't remember _anything_ about the woman with him. He remembered loving her deeply, but try as he might, he could not recall what she looked like, or who she was.

          "Harry," he snapped back into reality to realize that he was now alone with Ron and Hermione, who were standing beside him, holding hands.

          "I'm glad you guys are all right."

          "I'm glad _you're_ all right," Hermione said. "I was so worried!"

          "It was all right, the Simurgh would have protected me if anything happened." He allowed himself another smile as he thought of the spunky, outspoken little girl named Tia.

          "You know, there's something I wanted to ask you, Harry." Ron leaned towards his two best friends in a conspiratorial manner. "How did you know the Simurgh?"

          Harry laughed. "Well, I didn't _know_ I knew her of course. It was really strange. I left the hotel, as you remember because…well for several reasons. I was having dreams about Voldemort for the past month, which is why I snuck off with you in the first place, but ever since we arrived in Bulgaria they were getting worse. I could never remember them, but I knew he was near. As an owl, I could fly around the town and people wouldn't think too much of it. I could fly into windows and rooms under the pretense of looking for someone to deliver a letter to. So I set out that morning in search of Voldemort. I flew around the town, desperately searching for a clue, when I spotted Wormtail." He spit the word out like a disgusting slug. "He was dragging a little girl towards a boarded up building against her will. I had to do something. I didn't want to give myself away, but I had to help her. I tried flying around his head, hoping he'd let go of her to swat me away or something, but he blasted me with his wand and sent me flying into a wall. I was too dazed to do much else, so I quickly transformed into my human form while his back was turned and stupefied him. Then, I transformed back into an owl, grabbed the girl and flew as far into the mountain as I could before my strength gave way. Once safe in the mountain, we talked a bit, and I conjured up food for her." He smirked a bit. "I had no idea I had just rescued what he'd come hundreds of miles to find."

          "Wow." Hermione sat in a chair, still clutching to Ron's hand. "Oh! That slimy creep!"

          Suddenly, a thought struck Harry. "Wormtail! He's dead!"

          "Yeah, I reckon Dumbledore was right when he said you wouldn't regret saving his life."

          "Ron, do you think he saved Harry because of that?"

          "It's the only thing that makes sense," Harry suddenly remembered Wormtail jumping in front of Voldemort's curse in a flash of flailing arms. "It's strange, you know? The expression on his face looked like he didn't _want_ to do it, but…but he had to. I guess that doesn't make much sense, does it?"

          "Yes, it does," Hermione put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

          "I guess now that he's dead and all…I don't suppose we'll be able to clear Sirius."

          Ron eyed him with a mischievous smile. "What makes you say that?"

          "Ron, what did you do?"

          "Let's just say there's an owl on its way to the ministry and a body safely hidden in the Shrieking Shack. I'd say Sirius will be cleared of all charges by the next Quidditch match!"

          "Ron! That's brilliant!" Harry let himself bask in the glow of the situation for a few more minutes.

          "I know!"

          "Do you realize tomorrow is Christmas?" Hermione looked up at both of them, with happy tears in her eyes. "Happy Christmas Harry, Happy Christmas Ron."

          "Happy Christmas Hermione," they both replied.

          "So now, there's something _I_ wanted to ask you," Harry was now eyeing Ron, matching Ron's mischievous grin. "Just what on earth happened between you two in that hotel room?" He laughed as he watched the color drain from Hermione's face and Ron's ears flush red. "Never mind! I don't think I want to know!"


End file.
